Hurt
by mjm1996
Summary: In the months following Fred's death, George struggles to continue on until he gets help from a prominent figure in Fred's life. Rated M, multiple chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello there! This is basically just a post-Battle of Hogwarts fic that finds George sort of lost after Fred's death and he finds comfort in an original character, Caroline, but she and Fred have an interesting history. Anyways, thanks so much for taking the time to look at this and if you like what you see, you know what to do. :)**

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As I walked up Diagon Alley, I came to a familiar building that had suddenly become a stranger. No longer were there lines of children and teenagers stretching out into the streets, just waiting to get a glimpse at what new products might be inside. No longer was there any sort of life about the place, really. It had all died with him.

I stopped briefly and inspected the storefront. "Closed indefinitely," read the messy, hand-scribbled sign hanging in the window. Not that it would matter anyway. Contrary to popular belief, now that Lord Voldemort was gone, people were still as frightened as ever to leave their houses, afraid some rogue Death Eater would come and seek retribution before being sent to Azkaban. Others were still living in the horror of that night – the Battle of Hogwarts. Poor Ginny Weasley had night terrors almost every night, and I sometimes saw the occasional suicide in _The Daily Prophet_, all people who felt they had nothing to live for anymore after losing so much.

It had been nearly five months, and now here I was. I quietly opened the door to Weasley's Wizard Wheezes without even using my wand; no one had even bothered to lock it, but not anything had been stolen, it seemed, probably because there wasn't another human being in a ten kilometer radius.

I solemnly trotted into the backroom and up the stairs to the flat above the store. This had been long overdue, but I just couldn't do it, not until now, anyway, and even at this moment, I was having extreme doubts. I knew if I saw anything that reminded me of him, I'd lose it, and the whole bloody flat was filled with him: his clothes, his smell, even the memories of all of his pranks. I could feel it all around me, even just standing outside the door.

I couldn't even imagine what George was going through. I'd been Fred's girlfriend, but he and George had done literally everything together since birth. If my heart felt like it had been wrenched out of my chest, I couldn't imagine what George's felt like. We had both lost our better half.

Still, I was halfway hoping George wouldn't be there, not only to give me a private moment alone with Fred's things, but just so I would know he was okay. Last time I talked to Molly, she said George hadn't left his flat at all since the battle. If someone wanted to visit him, they had to do it themselves, but eventually, he stopped letting them in, not even allowing apparitions or floo powder. I was only getting in simply because I had a key.

And if he wasn't there, maybe that meant he was visiting his family or friends, anything but holing himself up in the flat he and Fred used to share, not that I could really blame him.

I tried to step in as quietly as I could in case he was there, knowing he probably wouldn't feel like having a visitor.

As I tiptoed to Fred's bedroom, I heard a male voice clear his throat.

"How you doing, Georgie?" I asked, trying to be kind, peeking my head around a corner and giving him a sad, rather forced smile.

"Fine," he answered curtly. He was sitting on their couch, drinking what looked like firewhisky. He looked rough, like he hadn't slept in years, with his normally strong-looking frame now gaunt and his face covered in uneven red stubble; his usual suit was traded for a ratty t-shirt and jeans.

"Good." I nodded awkwardly. I'd never seen George or really anyone else like this before. "I'm just here to…."

"I know." He sounded irritable and like he wanted to be left alone.

"If you want anything from his room…." I started, wringing my sweating hands nervously.

"Keep it," he said, not even bothering to look up at me.

"Right," I mumbled, keeping my head down, making my way to Fred's bedroom.

As I stepped inside, I had to hold on to the door frame so as not to fall to my knees right then and there. It still smelled just like his old cologne. I sat down on the edge of his bed slowly, gently picking up his comforter and breathing in his scent. On our last real night alone together, before we'd gone into hiding, we had spent it in here, jokingly saying that if it was going to be our last night, we might as well make it a good one, not even understanding the full seriousness of our statements.

He had several pictures of his family, particularly with George, on his dresser, along with some new prototypes for the store.

I quickly pulled out some boxes from my purse – a neat trick I'd learned from Hermione Granger – and used my wand to get all of his things, no matter if they were in a drawer, in the closet, or sprawled out messily on the floor. I was soon done, deciding it best to look at whatever I kept another time. I did happen to catch a brief glimpse of a photograph at the top of one of the boxes and I pulled it out cautiously, already preparing myself.

It was us, Fred's twentieth birthday, only about a month before he died. We looked happy, laughing as the camera caught our photo. We knew we could die at any moment, but we were just so happy to be there. He had been so brave, dying like a true soldier, but why did I feel like it hadn't been worth anything?

I clutched the photo hard to my chest, foolishly thinking that if I wanted it badly enough, Fred might appear before me, but he never did. I began to sob, practically screaming, just like that night when I saw him lying in the Great Hall, his eyes blank. I paid no attention to the fact that George was probably only a few rooms over and he probably didn't want to hear my crying, either.

What seemed like an eternity later, I finally composed myself, mentally exhausted from just being in his room. He was written all over it, calling out to me, but try as I had to reply, no one ever answered.

I crawled underneath his covers, resting my head on the two pillows he always stacked on top of one another. I decided to close my eyes for just a few moments, remembering all the times I'd slept underneath these covers, my head on his chest.

It had all started when he asked me to the Yule Ball our sixth year. We had always been great friends, but I still happily agreed, having secretly started to see him in a different light. I had spent the entire day before primping, giggling with my friends, and asking my mother to send my best dress robes. He and I spent the entire night dancing, eventually ending up like one of those cliché dance scenes you always saw on television – cheek to cheek, moving slowly in a little square rather than actually dancing. By the end of the night, I had gotten the goodnight kiss to end all goodnight kisses, practically floating back up to my dorm and while we had been off and on for a while, we had really been almost inseparable, particularly lately.

I soon fell asleep, humming the same tune we'd danced to all those years ago, clasping our photo in my hand.

Apparently I didn't get to sleep for very long, because I soon felt a bony hand shaking me awake.

"Caroline?"

I popped up immediately at the sound of my name, embarrassed but not even really aware of what I'd been doing.

"You were having a nightmare," George informed me, going back to his usual gentleness.

"Oh," I replied quietly, scrambling my brain for any memory of what I'd been dreaming about, but it didn't exactly take a genius to figure it out. "Loud?"

"Loud," he affirmed, helping me up.

As I sat at their kitchen table while George made some tea, I didn't try to make small talk as I really didn't know what to say.

He laid out a cup of tea before me and I took it just like Fred had, two sugars and a dash of milk. After downing it in silence, I put my cup back down, swallowing the last bit of my tea.

"Forget this." I gestured over to the empty teacup before me as he held up his old, worn teapot. "I'll have whatever you were having."

He silently got the bottle of firewhisky for me. I declined his offer for a clean glass, instead simply unscrewing the bottle and taking a large swig of it.

"Ouch," I muttered, feeling the burning sensation in my chest. Regular whisky hurt going down, so I don't know why I chose to drink something with "fire" in its name. Mr. Weasley always joked that you'd have to be drunk to drink this stuff.

The burning was soon replaced by a relaxing feeling of warmth, however, as George and I sat in somewhat comfortable silence. We both knew there was not much to say, especially about him, but we also knew each other well enough that it wasn't so awkward. Out of all the people that knew Fred and George, I'd been around them often enough and for such a long time that I could tell all the differences between them, however subtle. I'd been Muggle-born, but I had quickly made friends with them our first year, being entrusted with the deepest of their secrets and as the right hand woman to their mischief.

Even when Fred and I started dating, George was still always around, not that either of us minded. Sometimes we even double-dated. George had always been the quieter, gentler one of the two, even Fred admitted it, but I couldn't help but be attracted to Fred's more outgoing nature and deep affection for his family. He'd been the first to forgive Percy, and George the last. Whereas Fred was more of an open book, you never really knew what George was thinking when he got all quiet. Even in our shared grief, I had no idea what was running through his head as we sat there in silence.

"How is everyone?" George obviously knew that I'd been spending quite a bit of time with his family, more time than he had recently.

"They're good. Worried about you," I told him. "Ginny's back at Hogwarts, and Hermione, too, she went back. It looks really nice, actually. Harry turned down a job with the Ministry, Ron too. Percy's still there, with Shacklebolt, but he comes 'round a lot. We think he'll marry that Clearwater girl soon. And as for me, it's been pretty much the same. I'm still at St. Mungo's, healing. There's been a great need for that," I frowned.

George nodded, seemingly unsurprised by any of this information.

"Your ear, er, well, lack thereof, looks better," I noticed. "Not using it to hold things anymore I see."

"The hole finally healed up," he replied. "But it makes a good conversation piece. Helps with the ladies," he mused, actually cracking a smile, his long fingers delicately circling around his teacup as he took a quick sip.

I rolled my eyes at his comment, silently noting that Fred would've thought his little brother's cheesy joke was funny, too.

"Well," I started awkwardly, now thinking about Fred even more, "I should probably be going now." As I stood up, George gently touched my arm.

"You don't have to. I could use some company," he admitted. "You're not like my family, questioning me every five minutes, making sure I won't do something crazy. Besides, there is an entire bottle of firewhisky to finish and I could use a laugh," he said, glancing at me knowingly.

"One time, George Weasley, one time!" I began to laugh, remembering my first drink (or five).

"That one time was before graduation," he reminded me, leading me into the living room.

"Your dad had to run up and practically drag me off stage," I snickered.

"Was that before or after you flashed Snape?"

"His face," I recalled, laughing as I sat down on the sofa next to George.

"Probably the only naked woman he'd ever seen in his life," George surmised.

"It was all Fr – his fault, really. He gave me the bloody stuff, said it would help with my nerves." I chuckled anxiously, mentally kicking myself for even starting to mention that name in front of George. I hadn't even realized what I'd said until it came out of my mouth.

I could see the pained look on his face immediately, but he quickly changed the subject.

"So…new television. Never been used. And since you're my guest, I say I decide what we watch," he said, looking at me with fake sternness.

"Just because you're missing an ear doesn't mean I'm afraid to hurt you," I threatened, repeating his look.

He rolled his eyes, quickly finding a Quidditch match to absorb himself in while I began in on the firewhisky. We both took turns drinking it, stopping before either one of us got drunk. Eventually, we both sat there, caught up in the game, Ireland vs. Scotland, my home country. As I took what I vowed to be my last sip, I noticed the space between George and I had gotten smaller and smaller, my hand practically touching his thigh when I just laid it down on the couch. As the game went into overtime, I yawned sleepily, putting my head on George's shoulder, an act that made him look at me quizzically even though I'd probably done it a million times before I'd started dating Fred.

He gave me another glance, more relaxed this time, before seeing the bottle in the floor next to me, reaching for it.

"No, bad," I scolded, holding the bottle away from George. "We said we would not get drunk."

"Oh, come on," he urged, and at that moment, he reminded me exactly of Fred. He was his own ringleader now.

I decided to joke around, standing up on his couch, holding the bottle out of his reach.

He soon caught me, playing along, wrapping his arms around my legs and bringing me down somewhat gently.

I swiftly got out of his grip, jogging across his flat with the bottle in hand, going along a dark corridor.

"Why does he have to keep it so bloody dark all the time?" I thought to myself as I opened a door quietly and snuck in, hoping I'd lost him in all the darkness and confusion. I normally knew this place like the back of my hand, but I don't think I'd been to this side of the flat much.

"Lumos," I whispered as I flicked my wand, trying to get a better view. I was standing in the middle of George's bedroom.

I soon heard him come in, obviously seeing the light under the door. I put it out, determined to hide and scare the pants off him as I stepped into what I thought was his closet.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," he taunted. "I'm going to win this. I taught you everything you know. Never shall the grasshopper," he said, swinging open his closet door to reveal me, "surpass the master," he grinned smugly.

"Fine, you got me," I admitted, handing over the bottle, which he quickly sat down, apparently not wanting it anymore.

"Lumos maxima," I commanded. Even for a witch and someone who had just fought in a war, I was still a bit frightful of the dark. It seemed like nothing good ever happened when the lights were out.

"And Ireland just won," he informed me. "So you owe me a Galleon. Rough night for you, eh?"

"Oh, shut up, Fred," I said jokingly as I reached into my bag, then paused.

"Oh, Merlin." I mumbled. "I'm going to go die. In a hole. Now." I quickly pushed past him, tears filling my eyes for both my embarrassment and of the pain it reminded us both. George stopped me on my way out, however, catching my arm again.

His face looked pained once more, but he attempted to comfort me as I laid down my wand, letting the light go out while he embraced me in a tight hug.

I cried into his shoulder for a minute, then finally decided to look up at him, squinting in the dark. "I'm sorry," I began. "I can really be quite stupid sometimes, and –"

I stopped suddenly when I saw his brown eyes, identical to his brother's, staring at me in the waning moonlight. His eyes were full of tears too, and all I could think of was somehow making that pain go away.

I looked at him sympathetically, bringing up a hand to wipe the tears off his face. He smiled back at me tenderly, then very slowly grabbed my hand, moving it away from his cheek to his lips, kissing it softly as if to test the waters. Maybe it was the way he was looking at me, like he needed me, or just because of my hurt, but once he was done, I grabbed his face, kissing him hard and pulling us down together onto his bed, the taste of firewhisky and salty tears commingling in our mouths.

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**Edit: I slightly altered the timeline from two months after the battle to five months after. It will make a lot more sense in later chapters, promise. And also, it came to my attention that I included a television in here, but for my story, or in my head anyway, I think there would be some wizarding TV channels and Quidditch sports channels, but that's just me. Plus, we all know Fred and George could afford something like that, anyway. Thanks so much for the favorite and the follows and please keep reading! :) **


	2. Chapter 2

I woke up several hours later, staring hard at the digital clock on the bedside table and blinking rapidly, trying to adjust to my new surroundings. This was certainly not my bedroom.

"Damn," was all I could say, swaggering to my feet, still completely naked, my head pounding. Maybe I had drunk a bit more than I had originally thought….

"Deep breath," I whispered to myself, noting that George was not in the room. "Deep breath. You just slept with the twin brother of your dead boyfriend. And you liked it. Normal, right? Right?"

"Oh, Merlin, this is so not normal." I sighed and shook my head, pulling on my clothes and gathering my belongings. I had been drunk. That was it. That completely explains my behavior. I'll just say that I had too much to drink then get on with my life.

But I really hadn't. At least, I'd been coherent enough to pull George into bed with me. Then, from there, we had practically ripped each other's clothes off. It was interesting, though, all the subtle little differences. None of these differences were necessarily good or bad, just different. George had a hook in his nose, and a mole on his neck that Fred didn't. George was slightly taller and covered in scars from his Quidditch days, all little half crescent shapes along his arms and chest. He tasted like firewhisky and mint toothpaste and his cologne was gingery and musky and he was entirely too comfortable.

He may have come onto me, but I should've left. I should've said no.

As I took the walk of shame back through his living room and into the kitchen, I saw him at the kitchen table, sipping on a cup of tea.

"Hi," I practically squeaked.

"Hello," he greeted, raising an eyebrow.

"Never going to live this one down," I thought to myself. What if Molly and Arthur somehow found out? They'd probably never invite me back to the Burrow again.

"How you feeling, Car?" he wondered, breaking my reverie by calling me by a name only Fred had really used.

"Whorish," I mumbled.

"Come again?"

"Hoarse," I quickly covered up, grabbing my throat. Thank Merlin I didn't have work today. I was slowly losing it.

"Yeah, you would be," he tried to joke as my face went horror-stricken. _He was joking about this?_

"Too soon?"

"Too soon," I agreed, sitting in the chair across from him, not trusting myself to sit beside him.

"Drink this," he said, pushing a tiny vial near me.

"What is it?"

"Hangover cure."

I downed it all in one swallow, slamming it back down on the table like it was a shot. "Should I be expecting boils in weird places or an extra limb to pop out of my forehead?"

He shook his head. "Breakfast? I made a fry-up. You're Scottish, you like fried things. And pub fights." He was desperately trying to make me smile even just a bit, but my mood would not change.

"You eat it. You need to," I replied, looking down at my feet.

"George – this can't happen again," I said suddenly, looking back up at him but avoiding any real eye contact.

"…Why not?" He seemed genuinely disappointed.

"How do you think he'd feel about this?" I pressed.

"He'd probably poke holes in all my Muggle contraception and call it even."

I looked at him disdainfully, crinkling my brows in frustration.

"Okay, I know he probably wouldn't be thrilled, but better me than say…Draco Malfoy."

"Oh, like I would touch that filthy little pure blood supremacist!" I replied, my temper starting to flare. "I have some standards."

"Clearly not," he said, gesturing to himself.

"Even if I had no standards, you do," I argued. "If you want to do this, do it with someone else."

"But then there would be no point. Why would I do this with someone else?" He got up and sat in the chair next to me while I scooted away.

"I'm not trying to seduce you here," he joked, making me laugh, even just a little bit, for the first time all morning.

"I'm more afraid that I'll try to seduce you," I retorted.

"Did you not hear anything I said last night?" he asked, becoming serious once more.

"It was all just pillow talk, George. No one ever means that stuff," I contended.

"I did. And I think you did, too."

"George…." I sighed.

"So it meant absolutely nothing to you?" he questioned, his face seemingly displaying very rare anger.

"What…do you want me to say?" I finally said. "Even if it did, it's disrespectful to his memory. We're just using each other. It's not healthy." With that, I got up, facing towards him, and bent down, giving him a lingering kiss on the forehead.

"I'm sorry, Georgie," I said, carefully watching his expressionless face.

He finally seemed to agree, slowly getting up out of his chair and embracing me tightly, giving me chills as I thought of the night before.

"Don't you dare," I told myself, already thinking of what would happen if I just gave him one more kiss.

Instead, I just laid my head against his chest, savoring the moment before it was over. No matter how wrong it all was, I just couldn't stop. He was so warm and inviting that I thought might just fall asleep in his arms right then and there.

As we broke the hug, I smiled at him sadly, regretting that it had to be this way, but knowing it was all for the best. He reciprocated the look, patting me on the shoulder as he went to help me gather my things into the bottomless pit I called a bag.

Once all the boxes were packed, we silently said goodbye, him leading me down the stairs. When I was out of sight, I stopped on the front steps of their store, deciding to look at some of the things I'd gotten from Fred's room. At the very top of one of the first boxes I got out was the photograph I had looked at the day before. We were still there, laughing and making stupid faces as the camera captured our photo. At the end of the looped sequence, however, I swore I saw Fred's face looking straight into the camera, giving a stern nod of approval along with a cocked eyebrow before the whole thing started over again.

"Couldn't be," I mumbled. I had to be going insane. The photo had probably always been like that; I just simply hadn't noticed before. I was just trying to justify this to myself, I concluded, because as soon as I'd left that flat, I had the overwhelming urge to go right back.

It wasn't because he looked like Fred. I was well aware of all the differences, and despite all the subtle dissimilarities, I still found myself so completely attracted to him. Last night felt almost natural, and it scared me.

We had stayed up for hours afterwards, talking, sharing our favorite memories of Fred, stories, pranks. We both admitted that we were quite glad to have the other because no one else really understood because no one else was as close to him as we were. As I laid next to him, listening to him talk and feeling his chest rise and fall with every breath he took, I had, for the first time in a long time, felt genuinely happy.

As I sat there pondering all of this, I looked back at the photo again, just in time to see Fred give his short nod of approval. This time, however, right before the whole thing looped back around again, I swore I saw him smile one last time.

I abruptly threw the box back into my bag, entering the store once more and practically running up the stairs, deciding to ring the doorbell this time.

"Hi," I greeted, sounding out of breath and most definitely mad as he opened the door.

"Did you forget something?"

I nodded, stepping inside and throwing my bag down onto the floor.

He looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to get whatever I needed.

I decided to elaborate, slowly approaching him and throwing my arms around his neck, capturing him in a kiss. He immediately reciprocated, swiftly yet gently swinging me up into his arms, carrying me into his bedroom.

"What made you change your mind?" he asked against my lips as I started to unbuckle his trousers.

"Long story," I said, not really wanting to elaborate, particularly at this time.

He shrugged, deciding to focus on helping me out of my shirt. I gasped as the cool air hit my back before he and I somehow ended up pressed against the wall. We continued on silently, the only sound coming from a few audible moans and the fumbling of clothes as we took them off.

Next thing I knew, we were in his bed once more, both completely undressed. This time, however, the mid-morning sun was coming through the window in full blast through the drawn back blinds, allowing us to fully see one another. I began to see the extent of his Quidditch scars, lovingly tracing them with my fingers, my eyes closed and my nose pressed against his, not even really paying attention because I somehow knew where every single one was.

As I kissed his neck and chest, he noticed a winding, fading pink scar on my stomach, stopping to look at it for a moment.

"Appendix. I was 10 and thought I was dying," I smiled.

He leaned down, slowly giving it a kiss before coming back up and heading for my neck instead, nuzzling against my collarbone. I felt sleepy and comfortable with the sun on my skin, leaning back with my head on a pillow as he suckled on a breast, wrapping his lips and teeth roughly around my nipple, making me inhale sharply as I ran my fingers lazily through his flaming red hair. I eventually coaxed him back up to my level, grasping his face with both hands just like I had the night before and kissing him hard, playfully biting his lower lip as I felt his lips form into a small smile against mine.

"George," I said over and over again, too many times to count, just for the sheer satisfaction of the word. I was on fire, dancing along the edges and then suddenly immersed with this beautiful heat I couldn't even bear to think about anymore once it was all over.

"Stay. Really this time," he implored, breaking the comfortable silence we lay in after a few moments.

"Okay," I agreed, leaning against the headboard, not even bothering to wrap a sheet around myself out of modesty.

After a shower, I sat there in a towel and watched him shave, always fascinated by the fact that wizards still had to do something so ordinary.

"So what if you used a wand? Would you…cut yourself?" I mocked, my eyes wide in fake horror.

"You shave your legs, don't you?"

"No, actually," I replied. I waited for the inevitable glance to the lower half of my body, cocking an eyebrow when he saw that my legs were indeed bare.

"I got bored at St. Mungo's one day. They had a lot of potions there, and, well….It took a bloody long time to figure out how to remove _just_ the hair on my legs and under my arms…."

"Wait a minute. Do you mean, that time, when you got bangs….?"

"No eyebrows," I chuckled. "Your brother gave me hell for that one, but he never told a soul."

"We could've made a lot of money off something like that," he mused, finishing up.

"Missed a spot," I pointed out as I stood up, silently reaching for the razor to get the last bit of shaving cream off the edge of his neck.

"Thanks," he said, his muddy brown eyes looking into my light green ones.

"And you know, you could still make a lot of money on it," I said as we clambered back into his bedroom, getting dressed.

"No," he said shortly.

"Oh, come on," I pushed. "You can't keep it closed forever. It looks bloody depressing. People could still use a laugh, and Ron could help you, I mean, he doesn't have a job yet –"

"No means no," he cut me off sternly.

"He would want you to do it," I pointed out. "And you know it."

He sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his head slowly before peering up at me as I stepped back into my shoes.

"You're awfully pushy, you know that," he stated.

I nodded, puckering out my bottom lip before becoming serious again. "If we're going to do this, whatever this is," I began, gesturing between us, "I want you to be happy, and I think reopening the shop might help is all. I mean, it made you happy, right, to make other people smile?"

"I suppose. More so when…." He trailed off, knowing I didn't need to hear the rest.

"I know." I sat down next to him. "But you can't be miserable forever. I know it hurts. Believe me, I know. But life is still happening all around you, all around us. You know he wouldn't want you to be like this, not leaving your flat, turning visitors away. So, well, I guess what I'm trying to say is that you're – we're – just going to have to cope with it all in our own way, but there are better ways of coping with it than holing yourself up in your flat. We'll do it together," I vowed. "But you're going to have to do your part. You've got to eat and to take care of yourself. No excuses. I know it's hard, but…I really just…want you to be happy," I repeated, putting an arm around him. "Is that weird? Too fast? Am I completely scaring you yet?"

"No," he said, smiling slightly. "I guess it couldn't hurt to send Ronnie an owl and see if he's up to it…I could use a laugh, you know, when you're not around to be all awkward and cute."

"I try," I laughed, taking my other arm and reaching for his hand as we sat there, his head on my shoulder, in the contented silence that followed.


	3. Chapter 3

**Reviews would be appreciated! :)**

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Almost six weeks later, I decided to apparate into his flat after I got off my shift at St. Mungo's, hoping to surprise him.

"Hello, you," he whispered in a hushed tone, walking towards me and hugging me tightly as I stood tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek.

"Bad time?" I whispered back, but before he could answer, Ron walked into the room, carrying what looked like an explosive.

"And that's for putting ketchup in all my Jammie Dodgers!" I screeched as we both quickly released the hug and I slapped George hard across the face.

"Oh, hi, Ron," I greeted as George, genuinely surprised, rubbed his cheek.

"Bastard," I mumbled, looking in George's direction and trying to suppress a giggle.

"You don't do that to someone's biscuits, mate," Ron scolded, visibly amused and hopefully clueless about what had just happened a few seconds before he had entered the room.

"My mistake," George replied as he followed both Ron and I out of the room.

"You, angry, is completely sexy," he whispered to me as Ron fiddled with a new invention for the shop.

"Thanks, I'm Scottish, I get a lot of practice," I kidded, stealing one of his favorite jokes.

"Practice on me, would ya?" I looked up just in time to see him give me a quick wink that made my cheeks burn bright scarlet.

"Oi, what are you two going on about?" Ron wondered, stirring what looked like wormwood into a cauldron.

"Nothing," George and I both answered quickly, maximizing the distance between us.

We had agreed from the very beginning that if this was to work, no one could know for both our sake's. We couldn't imagine what our families would say and neither did we want to hear it – all the inevitable lectures, the guilt-trips, the questions. These past few weeks had been perfectly content and we just couldn't see our families feeling quite the same way about it as we did.

It was all a bit strange, though, when I really sat down and thought about it. Here I was flirting with George Weasley, the same little Georgie who'd put a spider in my hair when we were eleven and who, until recently, had always resembled something of an annoying older brother. Then, in one instant, I began to see him in a completely different light than before. I was starting to see parts of him I'd never even knew he had or perhaps had just never noticed until now.

Still, try as I had, I kept having nightmares almost every night, seeing Fred sprawled out on the floor and his family standing over him, sobbing. The one part I would never be able to forget, probably not in a thousand lifetimes, was the agonized screams I heard from George at the sight of his dead brother. After our first night together, however, George hadn't hardly mentioned Fred at all, only occasionally tearing up at the mention of his brother. I imagined he probably grieved more in private, but I figured it best not to ask. I, too, was trying to put Fred out of my mind, out of fairness to both myself and to George. I was starting to fall in love with him, and it just wouldn't be right to constantly compare them and think of Fred, although truthfully, without even trying sometimes, I didn't think of him at all, and that completely scared me. I had to keep remembering to do what was best for me, and this, being with George, even starting to love him, was the best way I knew how to live at the moment, no matter how much it frightened me.

"When does he leave?" I mouthed at George, giving him a mischievous smile.

"It'll probably be a while," he mouthed back. "Busy."

"Alright, alright. Have you eaten?" I wanted to know.

"No."

I held up seven fingers and two fists to him. "My flat. Food."

"Sounds good," he smiled. "Keep the outfit." He moved his eyes up and down my healer's uniform.

"George Weasley! No!"

"It was worth a shot," he shrugged. "I'll show you out."

After I said goodbye to Ron, George led me through the backroom of the shop, already filled with new products.

"I'll see you later," he said, finally being able to speak aloud.

"Alright," I agreed, once again standing up on tip-toe as he put his cheek out for a goodbye kiss. I skipped over his cheek, however, choosing instead to kiss him right on the mouth, an act he gladly returned as he pressed me up against the countertop.

"He's going to wonder where you've gone," I pointed out as he began to roughly kiss my neck.

"Fine," he replied gruffly, almost like a child who had just been scolded.

"Later," I reassured him as I gave him a quick hug before heading on my way.

As I got back to my flat, halfway between London and Edinburgh, per my parents' request, my answering machine beeped again and again, but I completely ignored it in favor of a shower. At 6:45, I finally got around to listening to it, my damp hair wrapped in a towel while I dressed in jeans and a dark red plaid shirt.

"Caroline, it's Mum. Don't forget your Aunt Louise's birthday is this Friday. You know what happened last year. And I'm worried about you being around all those chemicals at that hospital. We've been getting _The Daily Prophet_ delivered and this Rita Skeeter says –"

I immediately skipped through the rest, having heard the same hackneyed spiel a million times. Having no more messages except the one, I focused my attention on what food I wanted. I didn't think I had too much at my flat besides Marmite and week-old bananas, but before I could even look, the doorbell rang.

After tossing the towel in my hamper and giving my appearance a quick run-through in the hall mirror, I opened the door excitedly to see my Mum and Dad standing there, holding what looked to be a casserole in their hands.

"Hey, sweetheart!" my father greeted, stepping inside and giving me a kiss on the cheek.

"Hi…Dad," I said halfheartedly.

"What's wrong with your face, Caroline?" my mother asked, noticing my mortified expression. It was too late to send an owl warning George not to come.

"Just…so happy to see you," I said, biting my lip. George could show up any second now.

"Ummmm, this place is really not that clean," I said as my mother's discerning eyes swept over every inch of my flat.

"Weren't you expecting us?" she wondered, setting the casserole down on my kitchen table.

"We left you a message. No matter," she said, waving a hand. "We're all here together. How are you, sweetie?"

"I'm fine," I answered, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. Why hadn't I listened until the end?

"Are the Weasleys okay?" my father wondered. "After, well…." They only knew vaguely of what had happened, but enough to know that I had fought in a war, and that others hadn't made it out, including Fred.

"They're okay." Truthfully, I hadn't been to the Burrow in weeks, feeling guilty for being so happy while they were so miserable, and particularly guilty for the reason I was so happy.

"I can just imagine what his poor twin is going through." My mother shook her head, and right as she said that, George apparated into my kitchen, a bouquet of flowers in hand.

I shook my head at him from where I was sitting in the living room.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing, Mum."

"Shoo!" I mouthed. "Really bad time!"

"Who's there?" my mother asked before George could even disapparate.

"Dammit," I mumbled. I would most definitely be hearing about this. "Hi…George. What…a surprise."

"Hello," he said just as slowly, stepping into the living room.

"Oh, George!" my mother greeted, tossing her arms around his neck, giving him a kiss on the cheek.

"Georgie," my dad said, holding out his hand as George shook it.

"For…you, Mrs. Shannon," George said, handing her the bouquet of flowers, shrugging at me when my mother's attention was turned.

"Caroline," he greeted shortly, walking over and just patting me on the back.

"Mum, Dad, I forgot to tell you. I invited George over for dinner as well. His flat is…currently infested with Cornish pixies," I lied, knowing they wouldn't understand any part of what I was saying.

"Bloody things," George commented.

"Cornish pixies?" he mouthed at me as we followed my parents into the kitchen.

After warming up the casserole with my wand, we all sat down at the table, George across from me.

"You know Aunt Louise broke her tailbone again," my mother mentioned as we began to eat.

"Ah," I replied quietly. "I know what I'm getting her for her birthday again then. Liquid soap never fails."

"George," my father started, "I've always wanted to know, and forgive me for asking this, but what happened to your ear again?"

"Dad!"

"Robert!" my mother shrieked. "You don't ask people why they don't have ears!"

"It's alright," George reassured them, and he then went on to describe the Battle of the Seven Potters and how Snape accidentally cursed his ear off.

"But Caroline's a healer, can't she fix it?" my father wondered.

"I offered to, Dad, but it was an evil curse. I couldn't grow it back if I tried," I explained.

"Fascinating," my father commented. "And this Voldemort, what did he want with Harry Potter again?"

"That's a story for another time," I said promptly, turning my attention back to my food.

My father simply nodded, knowing not to go there.

By the end of the meal, the conversation was much different, mostly consisting of my parents arguing over a lost train ticket while George and I looked on, amused but only half-listening as we occasionally locked eyes, his hand gingerly resting on my knee while I interlocked my fingers with his underneath the table.

"Caroline," my mother finally said, "let me help you with your laundry while I'm here."

"Maybe later, Mum," I replied, getting up and helping George to clear the dishes.

"No, I think it needs to be done. Now," she said urgently.

"Oh, bloody hell," I muttered, leaving George and my father to work on the dishes.

"Yes?" I asked, annoyed, as she pulled me into my laundry room, slamming the door shut behind us.

"How long has this been going on?"

"What?" I inquired innocently, trying to hide my panic.

"You know very well what. It's time we had a talk, woman to woman. How long," she said, getting extremely close to my face, "have you been shagging George?"

"Mother!" I exclaimed.

"Your father may be clueless, but I can tell," she said, wagging a finger at me. "The secret looks, the mouthing across the room, the hand on the knee under the table!"

"Oh, Merlin. Is it that obvious?" I felt like I could crawl under something. This was a conversation I never imagined having with my mother.

"Have you seen the way the boy looks at you? Yes, it's obvious! And I ought to give you a right smack for it!"

"Oh, what? We're both adults. And we're dating, not shagging. Well, that too. I'm shutting up now." I buried my face in my hands, determined to keep my big mouth shut for the rest of the conversation.

"It would be fine under any other circumstances, dating, shagging, whatever you call it, but not now. Fred has only been in the ground for about six months. As I recall, it used to be 'Fred, this, Fred, that,' even after he died. You were miserable! And now all of a sudden you're fine because you've found a replacement! You're using that poor boy to fulfill some deluded fantasy of yours!"

"No, I am not!" I defended. "It is not like that. Not at all. They're completely different. He and I…are just…coping together."

"I'll say. And are you sure about that?" She eyed me suspiciously.

"Yes, I'm sure. He's so…different from his brother. And it's not good or bad differences, really, just differences. And at first, it's no big deal, but then, those differences aren't even differences anymore, they're part of him, and they just make something so beautiful, something that's separate from Fred and bigger than me just liking him because he looks a little like his brother. I don't think I could live without him. Does that make sense at all?"

"I suppose, but I still don't know about this. What will his family say? What will the rest of our family say? This doesn't really look good for either of you, you know."

"Whoa, now." I held a hand up. "No one said anything about telling anybody's family here. It's only been about six weeks, Mum."

"Oh, you're not Romeo and Juliet here. If you're serious about this, you've got to tell someone sometime, even if it is later on down the road."

"I just told you," I pointed out.

"Smartarse," she mumbled. "Are you happy at least?"

"Yes, Mum, actually. Isn't that all that matters, that he and I are happy?"

"Do you love him?" she asked, her eyes getting wider and a mischievous grin forming on her face.

"Mum, I don't know. Too soon to tell," I whispered, telling a half-truth just in case they were listening, not that it would really stop George.

"Is he a good shag at least?"

"Mother!"

"Oh, what? Let an old woman, live, eh?" She nudged me with her elbow, leading me out from the room.

"You're only 47," I muttered.

After they left, George and I practically crashed onto my couch.

"What did you hear?" I knew he'd heard something because he'd been looking at me strangely ever since my mother and I had emerged from the laundry room.

"Nothing, really. Just a 'Mother!' and a 'How long have you been shagging George?' I let my wand do the rest."

"Did my dad hear?"

"Yeah. Looked at me, nodded, and then got back to the dishes. I was preparing for a smack but all he talked to me about was Muggle politics and if I thought he'd get a refund for that lost train ticket."

"Good ole Dad," I smiled.

"Did you tell her the truth?" he wondered.

"Yes," I answered.

"Did she yell at you?"

"Yes…then she asked if you were a good shag."

"And you said….?" His interest was genuinely piqued now.

"I don't kiss and tell to anyone. Not even the person I'm kissing," I teasingly replied.

"No matter, I know the truth," he shrugged, putting his arm around me as I gave him a visible eye roll.

"The evidence quite literally speaks for itself," he said, giving me a playful look.

"Whatever," I yawned, settling in on his shoulder.

"Are you staying over?" I asked.

"If you want," he offered.

I nodded, getting up and leading him to my bedroom where we uneventfully settled in for the night.


	4. Chapter 4

As I woke up on a chilly early January day, I looked over to George, who was still asleep, laying on his side with an arm curled protectively around me. We'd spent the holidays basically apart, both with our respective families, and we were still making up for lost time.

I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before rolling back over, trying to fall back asleep.

"Car?" he asked as I felt him lean up.

"Were you expecting someone else?" I jokingly wondered, sitting up beside him.

"Never," he replied, pulling me back down into bed with him.

"It's Sunday, isn't it?" he wondered, looking at the clock. 7:13 A.M.

I nodded. "And my day off."

"I wish it were mine," he mumbled.

"You never have one of those," I pointed out.

"Woman," he complained. "First you tell me to work and now you want me to take a day off."

"Call me that again and you'll wish you were at work," I threatened, only half-serious but still wanting to make a point. "I do have a name, you know."

"Okay, my dearest sweet little Caroline Blair Sotiris Shannon, as I recall, you pushed me to reopen the shop and now you're wanting me to take a day off."

"Yes," I agreed. "No one said you had to work every day…."

"It's technically my business. I kind of have to."

"Verity's back, and Ron will be there. They can handle it," I pushed, wrapping my arms around his waist. "It's Sunday. You're only open half the day anyway and hardly anyone ever comes in on days like today."

"What would I even tell Ron? That I'm too busy in bed with my secret girlfriend to work?" he countered.

"That could work," I said, smiling in spite of myself at his choice of noun. "Everyone deserves a day off."

"And what would we do on this day off?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Anything you want," I said suggestively, looking into his eyes. "Anything."

"You have five minutes to convince me," he replied. "And remember, I'm just as stubborn as you are."

"Five minutes is a long time," I mused. "A lot can happen in five minutes." With that, I lowered my position under the covers as I heard George gasp.

Five minutes later, he lay on his back, my head on his chest.

"I'll meet him at the door," he said, out of breath. "Merlin, you're convincing."

Two hours later, as I was on top of George, moaning, I swore I heard footsteps coming up the stairs.

"I think that's him," I breathed, continuing to kiss him all over his face and neck.

"He can wait," was all he could get out as he reversed our positions, making me whimper in pleasure.

"Shhh," he laughed, holding a finger up to my lips before crashing his mouth into mine.

After we finished, he pulled on his dressing gown and a pair of pants, stepping quietly outside the room to meet Ron.

"There you are," I heard Ron say.

"I can't come into work today," George said. "I'm sick," he continued, expertly faking a cough. "So sick."

"I can tell. Sounded like you were having quite a tough time in there," Ron commented, almost annoyed. "Who is she?"

"No one you know," George promptly replied.

"Oh, Merlin, you didn't pick her up at Knockturn Alley, did you?"

"Oi!" I shouted, but then I heard George mutter an incantation, silencing his room to the outside world.

"Don't be so crude, Ronnie," George said. "She is definitely not someone you would see in Knockturn Alley."

"I was just asking!" Ron defended. "And you're one to talk….Is it Verity? I didn't see her this morning…."

"No!" I heard George practically yell. "And stop asking. You don't know her. And I also don't sleep with employees, especially underage ones. I'm not nearly as sick and twisted as you may think."

I opened my mouth to jokingly disagree, but realized no one could hear me.

"Alright," Ron said. "We just worry since…."

"Don't," said George almost immediately.

"I was just saying, we all do things we regret when we're gr-"

"Ron! Leave it be," George said, an irritated tone to his voice. "Go downstairs. I'm off today," he declared. "It's a personal day."

"Okay, but that is a shop mainly for kids. I don't want even the slightest chance of them hearing anything…." Ron began, actually making a valid point, one I selfishly hadn't thought of.

"No one will hear anything," he replied. "You open in thirty minutes. We know well enough to be gone by then."

"Alright," Ron agreed, and I could hear his footsteps fading as George stepped back in the room.

"I'm so sorry," he apologized as we both walked into the bathroom.

"Go, if you have to," I said as he turned the shower on, standing outside it until it warmed up.

"No, I don't. It's just…I wish you wouldn't have heard that. I honestly thought about giving him a right smack for implying you were from Knockturn Alley."

"Forget it. It's not like he knows it was me, but we do probably need to get out of here," I said, sitting on the bathroom counter in my dressing gown.

"It's completely soundproofed, I made sure of it when I was talking to Ron, but it would be a bit weird when there's customers down there," he admitted, stepping inside the shower.

"You coming?" he asked after a moment, poking his already wet head out from behind the curtain.

"I was going to wait until you finished," I replied, producing an old Daily Prophet from my dressing gown with no intention of actually reading it.

"Suit yourself," he shrugged, getting back in. "Just trying to be economical here, save on the water bill."

I sat there for the next fifteen minutes or so, occasionally talking to George, but mostly pondering upon his conversation with Ron. We all do things we regret when we're grieving….

After we were both showered and presentable, he held his arm out so we could disapparate together. "Where do you want to go?"

"Hmmmm…I'm feeling like doing something kind of normal today, actually. Muggle London?" I asked, not quite sure why I'd thought of there.

"Muggle London," he agreed, cocking an eyebrow as I took his arm in mine, leaving.

Five hours later, we stepped out of the cinema, our legs numb.

"Bloody glad we didn't pay for that," he mumbled, taking my hand as we walked out into the crowded street. "Muggles think that's entertainment?"

"My mum said it was good," I shrugged with a laugh, my earlier negative thoughts having been put far behind me.

"You know that raft could've definitely fit two people," he argued.

"But then it wouldn't be nearly as romantic."

"Easy for you to say. You slept through the whole thing. I almost had to silence your snoring," he said, looking down at me and smiling. "What else do Muggles do for fun?"

"It's really not that much different, except the technology and some of the entertainment. I'm guessing you've never heard of football? Basketball? David Beckham? Mary Poppins? _Doctor Who_? The Queen?"

"You might as well be speaking another language," he replied. "We have a queen?"

"We have a queen," I confirmed.

"Okay, I actually knew that one," he grinned. "But it's so fun playing clueless."

"You just think I'll take pity on poor, clueless George and give him a snog for his troubles, eh?" I joked, rounding a corner with him.

"I was hoping…" he shrugged, stopping and kissing me near an old pub.

As we pulled away, I stared at the sign above the pub in horror – the Leaky Cauldron. How hadn't I noticed that before?

"You don't think anyone saw?" I started, but he waved a dismissive hand.

"I doubt it," he replied. "Much more interesting things to focus on, at least for them. I led us here, anyway. I fancy a pint after that…thing...you just made me watch. Come on, I'll buy," he urged, holding the door open for me.

"I don't know if this is such a good idea," I muttered, hesitantly going inside anyway.

"We're just friends, going out for a drink," I whispered to George, who just rolled his eyes.

As we sat at a table and ordered two beers, he looked at me and said, "See, it's fine."

"Is it?" I sarcastically replied as Lee Jordan sidled up behind George.

"What're you two doing here?" Lee asked, patting George on the back.

"Um, we, uh," I stuttered, looking down.

"I was just kidding, relax," Lee said, throwing his hands up. "Nothing weird about old friends catching up. I…" he began, looking at George and nodding towards a table in the corner, "just happen to be catching up with the lovely Angelina Johnson. It took nine years, seven Quidditch games' worth of begging, and five owls, and she finally agreed to go on a date," he grinned.

"Good on you, mate," George replied with a smile.

"She has a little sister," Lee hinted. "I can introduce you."

"I'm good, actually." George laughed nervously, taking a sip of his newly arrived beer. "I'm too busy working for anything like that."

As they talked about the shop and went over a few of their old inside jokes, I peacefully drank my pint, just content to see George happy and laughing and to be completely anonymous.

Just as Tom was getting me some exploding lemonade to wash down my pint with, I saw one of my coworkers, Ted, walking towards me and internally groaned.

"Hi, Ted," I greeted as he pulled up a chair and invited himself to our table. George and Lee glanced up for one second, then turned their attention back to their conversation, though George seemed a bit distracted.

"Hey, you. Enjoying your off day?" he asked in a chipper tone.

"Yeah, it's been pretty good. Yours?"

"It's been good. Hey, let me get that," he said to Tom as he brought me my drink.

"It's just lemonade, really," I said, trying to dismiss the idea.

"It's on me, and your pint," he replied, signaling to Tom.

"No, it's not." I pretended to smile, waving at Tom to forget it.

He held up a hand. "Alright, then. Listen, I was thinking…" He then leaned in, entirely too close to my face for comfort.

"Scary thought," I interjected, laughing anxiously.

"Right…you're always so funny!" he complimented, then continued, "I know we went out for coffee that time in September and I was wondering if we could maybe do it again sometime? You said you needed some time…."

"As a date?" I asked, taken aback.

"Yes," he said, looking at me confidently.

"No, thanks," I replied, taking a sip of my drink.

"Why not?" he wondered. "We got on pretty well, I think."

"I'd really just like to be friends," I explained.

"You're seeing someone, is that it?" he pressed, looking at the now-staring Lee and George.

"Mate, leave her alone," George said, starting to get up.

"I see exactly how it is," Ted commented, looking George up and down.

He got up from the table and went back over to talk to a friend at the bar as George sat back down and I sighed in relief.

"There I was, being a completely nice guy, offering to buy her drink for her, and she totally friend-zoned me, for that weirdo with one ear," I heard him tell his friend, who was nodding sympathetically.

"Excuse me?" I piped up, jumping out of my chair. "Sorry, but neither myself nor any other girl owes you anything for being nice. If I'm not interested, I'm not interested, and that's that. Stop making excuses for yourself to justify the fact that you can't get a date," I growled. "And for your information, I'd much rather date a 'weirdo' with one ear that treats me decently than some creep who can't take no for an answer! He lost that ear fighting Voldemort, by the way, so you might could say thank you! Without people like him, you wouldn't be able to go into pubs and harass young girls at your leisure!" With that, I slammed a few galleons on the table and grabbed my coat and bag and left the stunned pub.

"Bloody creep," I mumbled, shivering as cold rain started to fall all around me.

"So much for being discreet," George tried to joke, stepping out of the pub and waving goodbye to an amused Lee Jordan. "Thank you for that."

"It's not a big deal," I replied as we began to walk along the sidewalk.

"Lee and Angelina won't say a word, and nobody else in there knew who we were. It's fine," he reassured. "Angelina said to tell you that next time you're around, drinks are on her."

"Could we…maybe go to Godric's Hollow?" I asked, completely ignoring everything he had just said.

He nodded silently as we disapparated, ending up in the graveyard as the sun set.

"You go," he told me. "I'm fine."

I approached the plain headstone towards the back of the cemetery, where all the other Weasleys and Prewetts were buried. It simply read:

"Fred Gideon Weasley

Beloved son, brother, and friend.

1 April 1978 – 2 May 1998."

I sat down right in front of it, ignoring the already wet ground as a few tears fell down my face. I heard leaves crunching around me and soon George was next to me, patting me on the shoulder before sitting down next to me on the ground.

"Do you think," I began, breaking the silence, "that Ron is right? Maybe we're just doing something stupid because we're grieving and we don't know any better."

"I don't really care if we are," he replied.

"Do you think you'll regret it?"

"No. Not at all," he said, looking over at me. "This is the first good thing to happen to me in months."

I smiled weakly in return. "Me too. But I just hate that we have to hide this, like we're ashamed of it or something. It'd be nice to go out without worrying about our friends seeing us or some creep hitting on me."

"I'm fine with people knowing, maybe except for my family, and that's just for now."

"Well, I'm not," I replied curtly. "I thought we agreed that no one – no one – could know."

"What's there to be afraid of?"

"A lot," I said, annoyed. "Especially for me. This whole situation doesn't exactly make me look like a saint."

"It doesn't make me look very good either," he replied. "But I honestly don't care. I'm happy."

"I am, too. That's what's so bloody scary," I said, getting up, declining George's offer to help. "Maybe we're just kidding ourselves, though. Everything ends nowadays, doesn't it?"

"It doesn't have to," he said, getting up and following me as I walked around a bit.

I said nothing, only stopping to look at Lily and James Potter's headstones.

"Let's go home," he urged. "It's getting dark, and I bet you're tired. I always knew you'd get into a pub fight one of these days, Car," he smiled, taking my hand.

I then (quite reluctantly) disapparated with him back to his flat, still feeling melancholy as I laid my head down on the pillow, thinking….


	5. Chapter 5

**An extra-long chapter that shows some pretty great character development for both main characters, I think. Plus, George is finally starting to get his famous sense of humor back. :) **

**_Flashbacks are in italics._**

* * *

_"Brown, Lavender," I said to Madam Pomfrey, covering up the poor girl with a sheet. Voldemort had thought himself generous to grant us this brief respite to bury our dead, but I'd honestly rather continue fighting than have to examine the cold hands and listen to the dead hearts of my former classmates._

_As we made our way through the Great Hall, cataloguing the dead and helping the injured as best we could, we came to where the entire Weasley family stood, sobbing. I immediately pushed someone out of the way, wanting to get a better look. _

_I saw Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Ginny, Molly, Ron, Percy…I came to another red-headed man, turning him around, selfishly hoping it would be Fred._

"_Caroline," George sobbed, grabbing onto me as I feel to the ground on my knees, practically screaming. _

"_Poppy! Do something! Now!" I ordered. _

_She simply shook her head at me, feeling Fred's already gone pulse. _

"_Who did this?" I yelled once I was able to stand. "Who did it?"_

"_Rookwood," Percy answered me solemnly as I made my way over to Fred's body, stroking his hair with Molly. _

_I stayed with him the rest of the night, along with George and the others, refusing to let him simply be buried in a makeshift grave. _

_I slept next to him one last time, only being awoken by Ginny later that morning._

"_Something's happening outside," she told me quietly, helping me up. _

_When Harry was revealed to be dead, I was standing next to George and Ron, shaking. For a Gryffindor, someone who was supposed to be brave and calm and confident, I'd never felt so scared in my life. _

_Still, I stood firm when Voldemort asked if anyone would like to join the Death Eaters, and as Neville finished up his speech, I saw Harry begin to move._

"_Harry!" I exclaimed, drawing my wand as the others rushed about. I saw George turn around to share the good news with his twin, visibly heartbroken when he remembered the truth. _

_I quickly put it out of my mind, however, as both Percy and I began to run over to the remaining Death Eaters, searching for Rookwood. _

_We both found him standing in the middle of the crowd, seemingly expecting what was going to happen, a bored yet cocky grin on his face._

"Expelliarmus_!" I shouted before Rookwood could even lift up his wand._

"Stupefy_!" Percy added, knocking the man into a wall. _

"_What, still angry about Freddie?" Rookwood taunted as he got back up. "I'm sure there are plenty of male Death Eaters who'd want a piece of you, my dear."_

_Percy immediately drew his wand, but I pushed him out of the way in pure anger. _

"Avada Kedavra_!" I screeched, not even caring anymore, but Percy grabbed my hand, forcing the bright green burst of light downward. _

"_Not that way," I could hear Percy say to me. _

"_Fine," I growled. "Your way."_

"Avada Kedavra_!" Rookwood shouted first chance he got. _

_I blocked it, hiding behind a piece of rubble. "_Stupefy_!"_

"Expelliarmus_!" As my wand got knocked out of my hand, Percy immediately went to work. _

"Reducto_!"_

_I crawled towards my wand, listening to the two men fight. As I grasped it, I shouted the first curse that came to mind, one I had only heard once in my entire life._

"Sectumsepra_!" I waved my wand over Rookwood's chest, watching it immediately turn dark red all over as he fell to the ground. _

"_Say you're sorry," I commanded, walking over and kicking his wand out of his hand with my boot._

"_No," he said defiantly._

"_I think yes," I replied, stomping the sharp heel of my boot into an open wound, making Rookwood scream._

"_Sorry I enjoyed watching your boyfriend scream as he got blown apart!" he hissed, out of breath._

"_Shut your filthy mouth!" I shouted. _

"_Now let's try that again," I said slowly, driving my heel deeper into the wound._

"_I'm sorry!" he cried. _

"_One more time?" I asked, putting a hand up to my ear and going even deeper with my heel._

"_I'm sorry! Please, just kill me," he begged, blood starting to come up his throat._

_I clicked my tongue. "I don't think so. I want you to suffer as much as he suffered," I growled, releasing the pressure on his wound and coolly walking away._

"_Make sure he doesn't go anywhere," I told Percy. "Watch him bleed out yourself if you have to."_

_Percy only looked at me, half-terrified and half-impressed. _

_As I turned around, I saw George watching me, sharing Percy's same look, slowly drawing his wand back._

"Fred. Fred!" I tossed and turned in my sleep, still having nightmares of that night. "Fred!"

"Wake up," George said, delicately shaking me awake. It was now mid-March, a few months since we had dinner with my parents and almost a year after the Battle of Hogwarts, but this was still an every night ordeal. "Same as last night?"

"Mhm," I began, starting to tear up. "George…." I buried my face in his chest, clinging to his shirt.

"I know," he said gently, stroking my hair. "I know."

"I keep replaying it over and over in my head. You saw the whole thing. You must think I'm a monster," I concluded.

"No, I could never," he reassured me. "I would've done the same thing if I'd gotten there earlier."

"No, you wouldn't have. You're too good for that. I absolutely terrified you. You drew your wand on me, and you had every right to…."

"What are you talking about?"

"When I walked away, you hand your wand drawn."

"I had been watching. I was going to jump in if you and Percy needed me, that's all."

I said nothing, only thinking. "Is it bad that, no matter how badly I feel about killing Rookwood, I would still do it again?"

"No," he said. "Honestly. Can I tell you something, honestly?"

"Of course."

"I enjoyed it, watching Rookwood get the absolute piss beat out of him. If you'd have given me some popcorn and a butterbeer, I would've made a right show out of it. That sounds bad, I know, but I hated him – hated him – for what he did."

"Me, too." I ran my fingers through his growing red hair, softly half-smiling at him in the dark.

"The shop opens at ten tomorrow, and Ron will be here at 9:30…" he reminded me, a subtle hint that maybe we needed to go back to sleep to be able to handle his once again booming business.

"I know, I know." I stared up at the ceiling, my head now comfortably laying on his chest.

"Get some sleep. I'm here," he reassured me, giving me a kiss on the top of my head.

I turned on my side, settling in once more, but suddenly a nagging thought hit me, a thought I couldn't get out of my head.

"George?" I asked into the darkness.

"Yes?" he yawned, tightening his grip around me.

"I love you," I said quietly.

He sprang up immediately, turning on the light. "Come again?"

"I said, 'I love you,'" I repeated, glancing up at him sleepily.

He said nothing, only looking at me.

Finally, he spoke. "Is it only because I look like him?"

"No!" I said quickly. "And how dare you for even thinking that!"

"Then why are you so keen on keeping this a secret from everyone?" he asked after another pregnant pause. "We've been arguing about this for the last two months, and you still don't want to tell anyone. You're ashamed that they'll figure it out…that I'm just a replacement…."

"You know, if you would have really listened these past two months or at any other time, then you would have heard me say how great I think you are, how different! You are two separate people to me, both people I love equally, but with him, that's over! It is quite possible to love someone after loving someone else first! You're most certainly not a replacement!"

"I'm just a rebound," he clarified.

"NO!" I shouted, jumping out of the bed we shared, hot anger rising up in my chest. "But one key difference is you drive me absolutely barmy sometimes! Why can't you just accept what I said, and I don't know, maybe say it back? Is that how it really is for you? Or am I just something to keep your mind off your grief? You could very well be using me, too! Classic projection, George, Sigmund Freud!"

"Who the hell is that?" he questioned.

"Oh, bloody hell," I sighed.

"Well," he continued, ignoring my comment, "I hate to burst your bubble here, but I do love you. I have ever since you first stepped foot into this room! I don't care if you or Ron think I'm being stupid because I'm grieving. I'm not. I may not be the cleverest or the most mature or the best at really anything but I know what being in love is."

"Then why is it so hard for you to believe me? I look at you the exact same way you look at me."

He paused once more, then quietly said, "Because you loved him first."

"He's dead!" I finally shouted. "He's not here! Is it so inconceivable to think that, eventually, I might be interested in someone else? So what if it happens to be you? I don't care if you look like him, you're not him! No one could ever be him, and no one could ever be you. You're taller, you have that hook in your nose, you're covered in Quidditch scars, you make weird faces when we have sex, even weirder noises when you sleep, you're kind, and children adore you, my parents love you, you're a surprisingly good cook, and putting my wand in gelatin? Brilliant! I love telling people that my boyfriend is a really great businessman and inventor and that you lost that ear fighting Voldemort! Do you think I would've gotten up in front of an entire pub full of people and defended you if I didn't love you? But you're right, I don't want people to know because I know what they're going to think and that kills me. I never want anyone, including you, to think that you were my second choice or that you're just a replacement because you're not! I'm not quite sure why anything happens anymore, but all I know is that I'm happy, and I'm happy because I love you. I can try to listen to Ron and convince myself it's just the grief talking but deep down, I know it's not. I wouldn't want to go through any of this without you. Think of what's coming up in the next few weeks – your birthday, the anniversary. We need each other. I've been hoping for weeks you would at least get up the nerve to ask me to come live in your flat, but you still haven't and now you're doubting how I feel about you! It hurts," I said, growing quiet as I sat down on the edge of the bed. "I haven't wanted to admit it to myself really but I think we both know the truth. Come on, man, can you be so daft? Do you see the way I look at you? I iron your suits every morning and I put in that little crease you like and I always let you pick out the shows we watch and I don't even mind! I even secretly like that degrading little pet name you gave me!"

His expression had softened as I had gotten progressively angry and upset, and soon he was looking directly at me and smiling in the silence. "I totally love your secret tattoo. And I don't mind it when you put your cold feet on me at night, or when you're out with your friends and you've had too much to drink and you drunk-owl me at three in the morning telling me about how you really want a hamburger and asking if I can come help you find your shoes."

"And then you brought me a hamburger and my shoes," I recalled, demurely smiling. "You know, you're not so bad, Weasley."

"I like how you sometimes make biscuits for the customers at the shop and how you always save at least one for me. You're not that bad, either, Shannon," he complimented, getting up and sitting next to me. "Do you really want to live here?

"I practically do, anyway," I pointed out. "My parents will just have to take a longer train."

"Can I keep the Quidditch posters in my bedroom?"

"You better," I replied. "I have quite a good view of Lennox Campbell in here. I need someone to think about when we're together," I joked, smiling cheekily at him.

"They're coming down right now," he laughed, reaching for his wand and flicking it at the walls surrounding us, leaving them bare. "Now you have no more options. You're going to have to think about me forever."

"Oh, the horror!" I replied, smirking at him. "But I'm seriously coming to live here?"

"Are you still my cuddle-bum?" he asked, looking straight into my eyes as if it were the most important question he'd ever asked anyone in his entire life.

"Don't call me that," I sighed, shaking my head but smiling a bit in spite of myself.

"I'm taking that as a yes," he chuckled. "We'll move your things in tomorrow."

"When are we going to tell Ron?"

"When you're ready," he said. "But we're going to have a hard time hiding it for long. We can only come up with so many excuses as to why you're lounging around my flat nude all the time."

"No one will be nude," I assured him. "Especially not me. Ron still needs his eyesight."

"I guess you're right. We better not risk it. Seeing you naked for the first time blew me away so much that it took my ear off, so imagine what it might do to the poor lad," he said with a great laugh.

"Do you ever think about the fact that we've all technically seen Harry naked since we were him for a few hours at the Battle of Seven Potters?" I asked suddenly, genuinely curious.

"Are these the types of things you think about?" he chortled, flashing a mouthful of brilliant teeth at me. "I knew you were a bit of a freak, but not that much," he said naughtily, nodding at me. "I don't know if we should live together now."

"You already took your posters down. No takesie-backsies, love," I reminded him, kissing him on the cheek as our laughs evolved into the thin space between awkward and comfortable.

"Do you think," he began, suddenly becoming serious, "do you think…he'd be okay with this?"

"I suppose," I replied. "We're not doing anything wrong. We're just living our lives. Like you said, better you than someone like Malfoy. I think he'd be happy for us, really. It's not a betrayal or anything. It's just…moving on."

"I talk to him sometimes, you know. I put up his portrait in the spare room. I know it's not real, but I told him about us the night it happened. He was…surprised. He didn't say much at first," he admitted. "I tried not to go on and on about you, but I think he knew. He smiled at me towards the end. I haven't been able to look him in the face since," he said, his voice starting to break. "We have so much fun together, we laugh, we play around, and you make me forget about all of it for a while. Whenever I think of the future, you're there. I have everything he was supposed to have."

"I do, too," I whispered sadly. "But maybe everything really does happen for a reason, Georgie."

"Don't say that," he snapped, looking at me with tearstained eyes.

"I'm sorry," I apologized swiftly. "I didn't mean it like that. I just meant that at least something good came out of all this. If he had to die because of some weird cosmic fate thing, then at least something good came out of it. Oh, Merlin, that doesn't sound any better…."

"No, no, I understand," he said. "I just wonder sometimes why him and not me."

"Because the universe likes to fuck everyone over," I shrugged. "And you're going to drive yourself mad if you keep thinking that way. It is what it is. It happened, and it's over, and it's not going to change, so either we obsess about it or we just keep doing what we're doing. We've already told each other how we feel. There's no going back and I need you," I confessed. "Like I said before, I don't think I could've done any of this without you, and I don't want to do anything else without you. You're not the only person who thinks about the future. If we're going to do this, we might as well do it right, and that's by just doing it and getting on with everything and not worrying about guilt. It's no way to live, George," I said, somewhat surprised by my own advice, wondering why I'd never bothered to say any of this myself. "If it were the other way around, you know you'd just want him to be happy."

"You know, sometimes you're like a really attractive Scottish version of Dumbledore," he laughed through his tears.

"I don't know, Dumbledore had way more style," I countered. "I could never pull off that Christmas bonnet."

"I really don't like to think of Dumbledore naked when I'm alone, though," he replied, wrinkling his nose and wiping the last of his tears away.

"That makes one of us," I quipped, giving him a saucy look complete with a raised eyebrow and a mischievous smile. "And if I recall, a certain red-haired boy had quite the interesting dream about Professor McGonagall in his fourth year…."

His eyes grew wide and his cheeks turned bright red as he tried to avert his gaze. For the first time since I'd known him, I think he was truly embarrassed. "How do you know about that?"

"Who do you think? I paid Fred five galleons to hear it," I said, my cheeks taut in a firm and affectionate smile, trying not to laugh at the memory.

"Well, I always knew Ron had problems. That dance his fourth year with old McGonagall probably didn't help," he shrugged, indignant.

"If it makes you feel better, I'll tell you something embarrassing about me, something I've never told anyone. That same year, I had my first kiss…with Oliver Wood," I said quickly, scratching my nose and looking down.

"I don't even know who you are anymore!" he exclaimed, amused, his earlier embarrassment clearly having been forgotten. "I'm gonna have to go bleach my lips after all this! How'd you get him to do it? Did you talk dirty Quidditch to him, 'Stick your broomstick in my snitch,' that sort of thing?"

"You're disgusting!" I laughed, hitting his arm. "The real story doesn't make me look any better, though. It was after we won against Slytherin in the first game. I caught him during a victory high. In the showers."

He looked at me, genuinely taken aback, but with his interest piqued.

"I was clothed! I was about to get undressed and get in when I saw him in there. I was going to leave when he came running out in his dressing gown, shampoo still in his hair and kissed me. Very soapy," I recalled, sticking my tongue out and grimacing at the thought.

"So you're telling me I missed out on free shower snogs the entire time I was at Hogwarts?" he complained, pretending to be hurt.

"I kiss you in the shower now," I reasoned, smiling at him.

"I was talking about Wood," he said cheekily. "Why would I ever, ever want to kiss you?" he asked, staring at me with fake disgust.

"You don't have to," I shrugged, trying to act blasé. "I could go without it." With that, I made sure to look him directly in the eyes, biting my upper lip and batting my eyelashes ever so slightly, trying to give off an air of coquettish innocence.

"Why would you do that to me?" he sighed, leaning for what proved to be a very warm and soft and altogether lovely kiss, tender like a lazy Sunday morning.

"I love you so much," he said into my lips, right as we pulled away.

"I know. I love you, too," I replied. "Let's go to bed. Children aren't going to start puking everywhere all by themselves."

"Just one more thing before we go back to bed," he began as we crawled over to our respective sides of the bed and started settling in, "what happened with you and Wood? Why didn't it turn into a relationship? I thought he was a real Keeper," he said, unable to stifle his laughter at his own joke.

"I'm going to bed," I chuckled, turning out the lights.

"Did you see his Wood?" he asked, his words almost inaudible because of his continuing amusement.

"Shut up and go to sleep, you sicko," I giggled, giving him a quick goodnight kiss in the dark.

He did just that, and when I was sure he was good and asleep, I slipped out of his arms, silently smiling at the loveable little snore escaping from his lips. I tiptoed across the flat to the spare room, the first time I'd been on this side of the flat, _his_ side of the flat, in months.

I opened the door to the third bedroom – one they had reasoned would be for visiting family – to find it coated in a thick layer of dust, obviously unused for months, and saw the portrait, its gold frame having been kept clean this entire time, where a sleeping Fred sat in a chair, his nodding head propped up on a hand.

"Hey, Freddie," I greeted quietly into the darkness as two bright brown eyes flashed open.


	6. Chapter 6

**One door closes...**

* * *

"Ow!" I exclaimed in the middle of the night. My pet owl, Thaddeus, was perched atop my side, nipping at my fingers to presumably wake me up.

"What in the world is it, Thaddeus?" I scolded, turning on the lights. "Oh, bloody hell…."

I immediately saw that the spot next to me was still empty, just as it had been earlier that night.

"He's still not home? What time is it?"

Thaddeus gave me two rapid nibbles on the fingers right as I saw the clock. My pet was correct. It was two in the morning, the third of May. George had agreed to meet Percy for a drink at the Leaky Cauldron tonight to commemorate the first anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts, promising to be home by midnight or so. I'd tried my best to wait up on him, but after working a double shift today, I was exhausted and I had fallen asleep almost as soon as my head had hit the pillow.

Thaddeus nudged a little note towards me. I turned it over, seeing it was plainly addressed to me with no physical address present.

I unfolded the note and read:

"Dear Caroline,

How is one of my favorite former Hogwarts students? Sorry for bothering you in the middle of the night, but you might want to come and pick up George at the Leaky Cauldron. He's pretty pissed and he's been asking for you. I'll wait with him for now. Sorry for any inconvenience. Hope you are well.

Love,

Hagrid."

"Thank you, Thaddeus," I said to my pet. "There'll be a little something in your cage tomorrow for your efforts, buddy."

He happily rubbed his beak against my hand as I got up, scrambling to toss on some clothes so I'd look at least a bit presentable.

"Hold the fort down, eh?" I told Thaddeus, disapparating and ending up right outside the Leaky Cauldron.

"There yeh are," Hagrid boomed as I stepped inside the almost empty pub. George was sitting next to him, looking rather awful with his clothes disheveled and his face bright red. He was resting his head on Hagrid, his eyes closed.

"Look who I 'ave here," Hagrid urged, nudging George, whose eyes popped immediately popped open.

"My wench!" he greeted as I sighed, his unsteady feet preventing him from getting up and hugging me although that wasn't for lack of trying.

"I'll kill him for that tomorrow," I mumbled to myself.

"I told 'im he migh' not want ter call yeh that," Hagrid said sheepishly. "How are yeh?"

"Been better," I replied. "Come on, Georgie. Let's go home." I tried to grab his hand and lead him out of the pub, but he refused to move.

"Where the hell is Percy?" I wanted to know.

"Penelope came and got 'im 'bout an hour ago," Hagrid answered.

"Would you mind helping me to get him home?" I asked Hagrid. "It looks like we're going to just have to drag him out of here."

"Course I don' mind," Hagrid said, getting up and throwing George over his shoulder.

"Thank you for putting up with him, Tom," I said, approaching the bar and laying down about twenty galleons and five sickles. That should cover it, eh?"

"Yes, ma'am," he replied, collecting the money and giving a little bow.

"Where to?" Hagrid asked, a stirring George blinking at the bright lights in the pub.

I simply held out my arm and Hagrid grabbed it as we disapparated back to me and George's flat.

"The bed's fine," I told Hagrid, and the giant laid a drowsy George gently down on our shared bed.

"Car? When'd you get here?" said George sleepily, smiling affectionately up at me.

"I've been here, love," I answered, slipping off his shoes and even emptying his pockets before tucking him in under the covers.

"She's _my_ girlfriend," George whispered to Hagrid, who just nodded in response. "She's beautiful, eh? She totally lets me –"

"Tea, Hagrid?" I interrupted before he could say anything else, leading Hagrid out of the room and leaving George to sleep it off.

"Yeh really don' 'ave to do this," Hagrid said, sitting in the kitchen and sipping on some tea mixed with brandy while I rummaged through the refrigerator, gathering up some ingredients for tea sandwiches.

"Please, it's the least I can do. Forget tonight. You really helped get me out of some sticky situations at Hogwarts, too," I said, buttering some bread.

"Yeah, yeh an him an his brother were always gettin' into things you probably shouldn' 'ave," Hagrid replied.

"Oh, you thought we were funny and you know it," I teased, offering him a cheese and pickle sandwich.

"Thanks. And yeh definitely were a spirited bunch, I'll give yeh that," he agreed. "Not that it's any of my business, but yeh and George live together here?"

"Yes," I nodded, taking a bite of my own sandwich. "Things happen," I shrugged. "We kind of came together after…you know. But it's a secret, for now, anyway. His family doesn't know yet. Can I trust you to keep this to yourself?"

"Course!" Hagrid boomed. "'m usually not so good wit keepin' secrets an things, but I doubt no one will come askin' me 'bout this."

"How'd you know where to send that note to, by the way?" I wondered. "It didn't even have an address on it."

"Yer bird – right smart thing, if yeh ask me – followed him to the Leaky Cauldron to make sure he was alright, stayed perched outside the whole night. When he saw George startin' ter get a bit drunk, he came in an' nipped at me till I wen' an' checked on 'im."

I smiled to myself at the thought of my overprotective pet taking care of George, vowing to take Thaddeus out one day and let him pick anything he wanted from the pet store.

"Thank you, really, Hagrid. You know, I ought to send a howler to Percy for just leaving him," I growled, shaking my head.

"Percy was a right sight. He was worse 'an George, trust me," Hagrid said, downing the rest of his tea.

"That's hard to believe. I can't exactly get mad at him, though. I had to work a double shift today and I left him to deal with this all alone," I said sadly, silently wishing that my boss would've let me weasel out of working today but she had said it herself that we'd need all the manpower we could get for the anniversary.

"It hasn' bin an easy day fer anyone, I reckon," Hagrid mused as he reached for another cheese and pickle sandwich.

"It hasn't been an easy month," I replied, taking a swig from the glass of milk I'd poured myself earlier. "Especially for him. The 1st of April was his and Fred's birthday and now this."

"Yeh take good care of 'im, though," Hagrid complimented.

"Care of Magical Creatures definitely taught me a few things," I said, smiling at my own joke.

"It better 'ave! Busted my hump ter teach yeh kids," Hagrid replied, shoving the rest of the sandwich in his mouth and practically swallowing it whole.

"It really did," I reassured. "You still teaching?"

"Yep! Finals are comin' up. Ginny Weasley is my top student, brave little one she is," he commented.

"You haven't seen anything till you've been on the receiving end of a bat bogey hex from her. You can ask that one in there how that goes," I said, jerking my thumb towards me and George's bedroom.

"I'll take yer word fer it," Hagrid chuckled. "Anyway, it's 3 in the mornin'. Better get going, get back to Hogwarts 'fore Professor McGonagall finds out I left an flips her lid."

I showed Hagrid out, thanking him once more for all his help. I peeked into the bedroom before cautiously tip-toeing in, trying to not awaken George. Thaddeus was perched on top of the bedside table, watching George.

"I can take it from here," I said, putting Thaddeus back in his cage in the living room for the night, not that I thought he'd really stay there. "He gives you leftovers every once in a while and you already love him more than me," I teased as my owl's face quickly reassured me that no one could ever replace me in his affections.

"Car?" George asked, sitting up uneasily as I stepped back into our bedroom. "Where've you been?"

"I was talking to Hagrid," I answered softly. "Why aren't you asleep yet?"

"Waiting on you," he mumbled. "I can't sleep when you're not here."

"Well, I'm here now," I said soothingly, getting undressed and back in my original outfit of the night – an old t-shirt of George's and even older sweatpants.

"Go to sleep, sweetheart. I'm here," I assured him, climbing into bed and stroking his hair.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, shyly smiling at me. "Had a bit too much to drink tonight."

"I know. It's alright. It happens to the best of us. Just don't make it a habit," I warned. "I don't want you drinking yourself to death. I'd like to keep you around for a bit longer."

"I won't," he dismissed quickly, making strange, swirling hand motions. "You look gorgeous tonight, by the way," he complimented, pointing at me.

"Now I know you're smashed," I laughed.

"I'm serious. I love you and you look gorgeous tonight," he emphasized. "We are going to have so many children," he slurred, wagging a finger in my direction. "Way more than my parents. Just when McGonagall thinks she's finally done with the Weasleys, there'll always be another one, just waiting in the wings." He silently laughed to himself at his own evil plan.

"Okay, Romeo, I love you, too, but before we can do that, we both need to get some sleep," I urged, flicking off the lights with a wave of my wand. "Tomorrow's Monday, you know. I'm off, but you're not."

"I'm still completely serious," he argued.

"You won't remember a word of this by morning," I smiled, pressing my lips to the tip of his nose and giving it a gentle, lingering kiss. When I was finished, I looked over to him and saw his eyes closed tight and his mouth slightly ajar, already resting in a deep sleep.

I simply laid there next to him, listening to his loud, drunken snore and doing quite a bit of thinking. Finally, I got out of bed, silently planting a small kiss on his cheek before walking across our flat to the spare bedroom for what must've been the hundredth time in recent weeks.

It had been nearly two months since I'd attempted to talk to Fred, and I was still working up the courage to say something, anything. As soon as he'd opened his eyes that first night, I ran out of the room in terror, knowing full well that there was really not much to say. Like I'd reiterated to George over and over again, there was no point in feeling guilty for loving each other, but I still had a hard time following my own advice sometimes, especially on nights like tonight. Here I was living in his old flat with his brother, starting to laugh and joke around again, and half the time I didn't even really feel that bad about it, which, of course, made me feel really shitty. I was right, nothing would change, but I just didn't feel right for some reason knowing that Fred was dead and me and George were so painfully alive. Why couldn't I at least speak to him?

"I know you're not mute," I heard a voice say right as I opened the door. "So why the silent treatment?"

"You don't waste time, do ya?" I chuckled nervously, turning the lights on.

"Not much to do here," he mused, shrugging. "For our birthday, I requested that George get me a painting of an attractive nude woman that I could visit, but he said you'd never allow something like that in your flat. So it's just me, myself, and I. Oh, and a chair."

"Well, you could always play poker with some dogs. I hear Harry's trying to collect for a portrait for Snape, so we could maybe get a copy…."

"Has living with George driven you mad? It nearly did me, too, but some exploding masonry quickly took care of that," he said, trying to be funny.

"Not funny?" he asked, noticing my expressionless face.

"Not funny," I answered, sitting on the edge of the dust-worn bed.

"At least you're talking," he nodded. "Thought you were angry with me for a bit."

I quickly shook my head. "Why would I be?"

"I've gotten an earful – no pun intended – from George. He keeps wondering why the smarter, better-looking of the two of us couldn't help but notice a huge chunk of flying building coming straight towards him."

"I have a feeling he didn't say all of that," I said suspiciously.

"Okay, yeah, I made up the better-looking part, but he definitely said smarter," said Fred, grinning mischievously.

"You're still such a liar!" I jokingly accused, cracking an almost invisible smile.

"And the great Caroline Shannon finally proves she can smile!" he announced as if we were in a sporting arena.

"Oi, keep it down," I immediately scolded, my voice hushed. "He's trying to sober up and get some sleep before tomorrow."

"Bless," Fred replied. "If only I could get out of here and somehow get rid of all his hangover cures before the morning." He looked at me seriously for a moment. "He makes you happy?"

I nodded silently in response, my eyes starting to water, knowing full well this moment would come.

"Doesn't hit you or curse at you or make you do saucy things with cans of fruit? Always struck me as a bit of a weirdo," Fred commented.

"No," I laughed, tears now freely flowing from my eyes. "He treats me very well….Are you angry?"

"No. It's like I handpicked him for you myself. There's no one better," he agreed. "He's the best guy I know, always has been. He talks about you all the time and he really doesn't even realize he's doing it. He loves you."

"I love him for him," I said, trying to look confident, my chest puffed out and my eyes looking into his. "I just want you to know that."

"I know. You get the look when you talk about him. _That_ look," he laughed. "I oughta come back as a ghost and tease the hell outta both of you for the rest of your lives."

"Funny how things work out, huh?" I pondered. "I never thought any of this would happen in a million years."

"But it did," he said, looking at me sagely. "He told me what you said and you're right. It's just moving on, I guess. Who knows why anything happens anymore? I was upset at first, but I thought about it and I'm happy for you both, really. And you're happy. Maybe this is how it was always supposed to be. Think about it," he said, his voice growing progressively serious. "Georgie has always had a bit of a crush on you ever since you sat across from us on the train to Hogwarts first year and you gave him your last chocolate frog. He never told me as much, but I could tell. I figured he was over it by the time the Yule Ball rolled around, because of Katie Bell, so I didn't even think about it when I asked you. He probably was over it by then, but then, with what happened at the Battle of Hogwarts, you came back and made everything better for him again. Some of the only times he ever smiles are when he talks about you. For a while there, I thought he might come join me at any moment. Now, I'm not so worried," he smiled, then continued. "And don't get angry with me for this, but remember, we fought all the time when we were actually a couple, and we only got back together right before we thought Voldemort might kill us all in our sleep. We really might not have been fit to go the distance," he chuckled. "Do you remember my last birthday?"

I nodded curtly, wiping more tears from my eyes.

"Remember how we were going to go to a Muggle vicar and get him to marry us that night but we both backed out?"

"Yes…."

"Ask yourself, if you were in that same situation with George, what would you do?"

"That's an impossible question to answer," I argued.

"But somehow, I think you know the answer. I think, maybe, just maybe, even if I were still here, you and him might've ended up like this, anyway."

"No!" I said quickly, not even sure what the truth was.

"Think about it," he instructed. "We were each other's first love, but not everyone ends up with the first person they date. We're not my Mum and Dad," he laughed. "I honestly don't know that it would've worked. I thought you were too serious sometimes and sometimes I drove you mad by not taking things seriously enough. We might have always been better off as friends, who knows?"

"Are you trying to convince yourself?"

"I'm trying to convince you. I know I wasn't serious all the time, but I occasionally had a serious thought. You know you had doubts."

"Maybe," I said, looking down at my feet.

"Don't make us into something we weren't," he advised, looking at me sternly. "We don't know if we were going to stay together or not when everything was said and done. People always make things much bigger than they are when someone dies. You don't know how many times I've heard Pansy Parkinson claim she and I were just the best of friends," he said, faking a gag. "But, my point is, we don't know what would've happened, so don't feel bad about what you're doing now. Things just happen, people move on and die and fall in and out of love. Don't feel guilty for being alive when I'm not."

"Merlin, when did you get so philosophical?" I complained, my face still drenched in tears.

"Dying does that to a guy," he laughed. "Tonks and Dumbledore helped a bit, too. They're good with advice, what can I say? It's so weird being like this, though. I'm kind of in a million places at once, talking to them and to you. I'm here, I'm up there." With that, he looked up to the ceiling.

"You live in our ceiling?!" I exclaimed almost too loudly, giggling in spite of myself at my little joke.

"And your jokes are still terrible. Some things haven't changed at all," he laughed. "But while you're here, can I make some requests? You have to promise me you'll do it."

"Okay…." I agreed reluctantly, my tears starting to dry up.

"One, I want to go in Hogwarts. I know George wants me here, but that may not be for the best. I hate seeing him get all upset and that always happens when he visits me. Plus, from Hogwarts, he won't be tempted to visit as much. And then there's all the pranks I could pull, all the other portraits I could bother…." He trailed off, a dreamy look in his eyes. "Paradise. I may really be up there, but if I'm also going to be a portrait, I want to be at Hogwarts. I want to see all the little demon spawns my siblings conjure up," he grinned.

"I'll do it, if that's what you truly want," I agreed. "But only if he agrees, too."

"That's fair. Okay, now two – this is critically important – I want you to work on finding a way for portrait me to eat. There's really no eating where I am now, so this portrait is my last hope. George came in with some chocolate cake for our birthday and I think he might've had to wipe a little drool up…."

"I'll work on it," I chuckled. "I'm sure the Fat Lady could probably help you there when you're at Hogwarts."

"Now my last request. No, make this one a demand. You need to tell me and George's family about this. They need to know. Maybe not now, but it's never good to keep secrets. You can ask Harry about that. All those years I knew him and he never once told me his dad was Prongs. I almost did come back and haunt him, the little wanker," he mumbled jokingly. "But I think they'll be nice about it, mostly, if you just tell them. George really wants to. He's very proud to live in sin with you."

"Okay. I'll talk to George and pull some strings and get it all done," I said after a moment.

"I would say we could shake on it..." he began, giving me a silly grin.

I rolled my eyes, commenting, "And you say my jokes are bad."

"Please. I can even make Snape crack a smile now," he bragged.

"Really? Do you see him a lot with Harry's mum?" I asked out of curiosity, having heard Harry talking to Voldemort during their last confrontation.

"Now that you mention it, yes," Fred said, crinkling his brow. "Why?"

I simply smiled knowingly, waving a hand. "Good night, Fred."

"Night, then."

"Thank you. And I do still miss you, no matter how things would have turned out," I said after a pause. "He and I both do."

"You're gonna make me ruin this portrait with tears and then I'll never eat," he complained.

"We can't have that happening," I replied sarcastically.

"We really can't," he argued. "But I do miss you both, too."

"Good night," I said, quietly slipping out.

"Good night," I heard as I gently closed the door.

* * *

**...and another one opens. I included Fred in here to kind of resolve those guilty feelings our main characters are feeling. He's not necessarily condoning their actions, but he's reiterating the idea that I introduced in the last chapter - sometimes things just happen, and we don't really have control over it. He gives a very realistic view, I think. I know it may be slightly OOC for Fred to be giving such wise advice, but I've always thought him to be a smart and mature character (at least when it comes to some things) and participating in/dying in the Battle of Hogwarts will definitely make a guy grow up a bit. But don't worry, we haven't seen the last of him. ;) Now we're going to get to the major plot of the story since we have some good character development and the guilt part of the story is definitely going away. **


	7. Chapter 7

**Several important clues/things of note in this chapter...**

* * *

The next day, right as the shop was about to close, I stood at the counter alone in a magenta robe, giving George a little extra help since both Ron and Verity had only worked morning shifts. As I was going over the books once more, mumbling numbers to myself, George approached me, coming out from the backroom.

"Smell this," he prompted, holding a tiny vial so close to my nose that I couldn't even get a fair look at it.

"Your cologne?" I guessed after a moment. "No…that and roses. And Earl Grey tea? Our flat? What am I smelling?"

He unwrapped his hand from around the vial and pulled it away from my face, allowing me to see the liquid's pearly sheen. Amortentia.

I simply looked at him and sighed. "This means nothing."

"I think it means everything," he teased.

"Just because I say it every now and again doesn't mean I really mean it," I retorted with a hint of a smile. "What do you smell anyway?"

He took a whiff, immediately replying with the following: "The ocean...chocolate frogs…smoke…and your shampoo."

"Tugs at the heartstrings, Weasley," I said, giving him a playful push and an affectionate smile.

He looked around to make sure no one else was in the shop before planting a huge kiss on my cheek, his five o'clock shadow rubbing against my face. I'd already told him about what Fred had requested, and he seemed to be surprisingly okay with it, even helping me to think of which portraits had food in the background and friendly faces. This morning, we packed him up and said a tearful goodbye before sending him on his way via Hagrid.

As he pulled away, we both heard a tiny voice clear her throat.

"Where –?" I asked, darting my eyes across the room and seeing no one in the immediate vicinity besides me and George.

We heard the noise once more and we finally looked over the high counter to see a young girl, probably no more than six, waiting patiently, her brown, curly hair pulled up into a lazy ponytail and a worn stuffed rabbit tucked underneath an arm. Her big, probing brown eyes were staring up at us.

"Sorry, didn't see you there, miss," George apologized, stepping out from behind the counter and approaching her, having to bend down to her level to make any real eye contact. "How can we help you?"

"What happened to your ear, mister?" she asked, completely ignoring his question and reaching out to touch the spot where his ear had formerly been.

He mulled her question over for a few seconds, deciding on which made-up horror story to give this time.

"She did it," he said finally, pointing up to me. "Got mad at me one day and just took my ear off."

"It's true," I confirmed, nodding my head as I stepped out from behind the counter as well. "He should've never made me mad."

"Real battle-ax, that one," he whispered to her while they both looked straight at me.

The little girl then suddenly grabbed my hand, giving it a weak smack and scolding, "You shouldn't take people's ears off."

"I'll remember that next time," I nodded, trying not to giggle when I saw George visibly laughing at me.

"Now what can I help you with?" George asked, focusing his attention back on the girl.

"I'm not sure," she replied, shaking her head.

"Well, sweetie, where are your Mum and Dad?" I asked her.

"I left them at that old, smelly bookstore. It was really boring in there and it's so pretty in here," she commented, looking around in awe.

"Well, I can help you look around," George promised. "And Caroline here will just be stepping out," he said, looking up at me, eyes wide.

"I will be, for just a second," I said, smiling at her and shrugging out of the stifling magenta robe I was wearing, reasoning that it was closing time anyway.

"Okay," the girl agreed as I stepped out, heading towards Flourish and Blotts.

I came back nearly twenty minutes later, a very anxious man and a distraught woman with me.

I saw George holding the little girl up so she could see the top shelf, explaining to her each and every item as she listened intently.

"Janie!" the woman called, and soon, the little girl was out of George's arms, running to her mother.

"Mummy! Look at what I've found," she announced, holding a pink Pygmy Puff up proudly and squeezing the tiny creature in a tight yet loving embrace as I heard a pitiful squeak escape from its lips.

"Ah, Janie, what did we talk about?" George questioned, bending down and getting on the girl's level once more. "You have to be very gentle. They're very fragile. Hand him here."

The girl did so reluctantly, and George demonstrated the proper technique for petting the clearly worn out animal.

"Can I trust you with him?" George asked, eyeing her parents for approval.

The girl quickly nodded and so did her parents, and while George was ringing Janie up, her mother thanked me for finding them.

"It's been crazy, what with all the Death Eaters still about. It makes you worry more than you already are," she commented.

"Death Eaters?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "I thought all of them were in Azkaban by now."

"That's not what Rita Skeeter says. Our neighbor says he saw some strange goings-on a few nights ago, too. Thought he saw the dark mark up in the sky in the empty field by our houses, but to be perfectly honest, he's an old alcoholic, so who knows?"

"Well, I wouldn't buy anything Rita Skeeter says," I laughed, rolling my eyes. "I don't know about your neighbor, but I'd take most of what he says with a grain of salt. I'm sure it's fine. Even if I were a Death Eater, I wouldn't be crazy enough to cast a dark mark in the sky for just anybody to see. That's pretty much asking for a life sentence to Azkaban," I chuckled. "I'm sure he was just seeing things. They're all probably locked up by now or in hiding way out in Siberia or somewhere, but they're definitely not here."

"Probably," she agreed, grabbing her daughter and husband's hands as Janie waved goodbye and as we finally closed up shop.

"Did she say Death Eaters?" George wondered as we trudged up the stairs to our flat.

"Apparently her neighbor saw the dark mark a few nights ago and Rita Skeeter has been saying much of the same in _The Daily Prophet_. I'm sure it's all a load of bollocks," I said, shaking my head as we both stepped inside.

"I think Shacklebolt's taken care of all of them by now," George replied, already removing his suit jacket and loosening his tie.

"I don't feel like cooking," I said, plopping down next to him on the sofa.

"I don't feel like pretending to like your cooking," George retorted, smiling coyly at me.

"Funny, you've never faked before," I teased, running a hand through his hair.

"That you know of," he replied, giving me a short wink.

"Oh, you fake? Good, because I fake, too," I laughed, crinkling my nose.

"Now I feel the sudden urge to correct this problem," he said flirtatiously, leaning in for a kiss.

I happily obliged, eventually grabbing his tie and pulling him in closer before starting to untie it altogether.

"You know what?" I asked, pulling away. "This doesn't feel right. I need food first."

"You would," he commented with a laugh.

"Pizza?"

"Pizza's fine. The faster we can eat it, the better," he assured cheekily.

"I think I'm going to eat mine realllllly slowly," I kidded as he visibly rolled his eyes. "Better for the digestive system that way."

I started to scribble out an order – along with our names and address – on a piece of paper, showing it to George when I had finished. "Is that okay?"

"You're such a healer," he replied, scratching out what I'd written and rewriting it in his version of neater handwriting.

"That doesn't look any better," I said, folding the note anyway and placing it in an envelope along with a few galleons.

"They can read," he replied, waving a dismissive hand and kicking off his shoes.

"Off you pop. Straight there and back," I instructed my owl, handing Thaddeus the envelope and opening a window. "And bring me back all my change this time!"

My pet seemed to give me an exasperated glance before taking off, the envelope clutched tightly in his beak.

"Now, where were we?" George asked mischievously as I sat back down next to him.

"I need wine," I said, lazily flicking my wand and making a bottle and two glasses appear from the kitchen. "If we're going to do this, I need to be a little drunk," I teased, pouring myself a glass and handing him a glass with about half the amount of wine in it that mine had.

"I'm not an alcoholic," he stated, taking a sip.

"I know," I replied. "But you gave me a bit of a scare last night. And you called me your wench!"

"How am I still alive?" George wondered, his eyes wide in terror.

"You caught me in a good mood. But really, don't let it happen again," I said, repeating my words from the previous night. "You know I don't care if you go out or drink or whatever, but on nights like last night, it might be better if you just stayed home."

"Alright," he agreed. "I thought it would make me feel better but I woke up this morning feeling even worse than before. Thank you for taking care of me."

I nodded silently, taking his hand in mine and squeezing it. "I have to say, though, drunk George was pretty romantic."

"Was I?" he laughed. "Even more than sober George?"

"Let's just say sober George needs to step up his game considerably," I replied coyly, finishing my glass of wine and setting it down on the coffee table in front of me.

"Noted," he said. "Did I mention how lovely you look in those magenta robes?"

"Let's just get this over with," I joked, faking a dramatic, displeased sigh and leading him into our bedroom.

A little while later, we lay together on our shared bed, me propped up on my elbows with him lying flat on his back, a thick, fluffy red comforter covering both of us.

"I love you," I said quietly, stroking his face with my thumb, feeling his dimples magnify as I spoke.

"Love you, too," he replied, taking my hand in his and giving it a delicate kiss.

I soon shifted positions, wanting to be in his arms, to feel his skin against me, to breathe him in.

"The pizza's probably already been there a while," he pointed out.

"It can wait," I said, wrapping my arms around him and curling against his side, my head now resting on his chest.

"Definitely," he agreed. I looked up to him, catching his gaze and smiling affectionately. Soon enough, our lips were together again, melding together smoothly as he cradled my face gently in his hands.

"I don't want to leave now," I complained with a laugh, falling on my back once the kiss was over.

"We have to eventually," he reasoned, turning on his side and holding me close to him while he started kissing my neck.

"Doesn't look like you want to go anywhere anytime soon," I mused, feeling shivers go up and down my spine as his hot breath neared my ear.

Suddenly, he jumped out of bed, making me sigh. "I'm up," he announced, putting on a pair of pants.

"I'm not. Who says I was done with you?" I questioned, looking at him naughtily. "You are looking pretty fit today."

"How fit?" he asked, dramatically landing back on the bed, propped up on an elbow almost like a model for a men's magazine.

"Very," I laughed.

"I'll make you a deal. We eat, then maybe – just maybe – I might you let you have your way with me," he smiled cheekily.

"You act like that's such a privilege." I rolled my eyes at him before extending out a hand. "But deal."

"Good doing business with you," he said, grabbing my hand and shaking it firmly before I, too, got out of bed, tossing on George's white button down shirt and a pair of knickers.

"You look much better in that than I ever did," he complimented, now wearing one of his Quidditch t-shirts.

"After you," he invited as I headed to the door, buttoning up the shirt as I ventured back into our living room, George close behind me.

"Oi!" I complained as I felt him give me a quick pinch on the bum. "How would you feel if I treated you like a cheap piece of meat, eh?"

"Don't you al—" he began to say right as we both looked up, stopping dead in our tracks.

"Er, hello," George greeted, pushing past me to greet our guest and to give me some time to get a bit more decent.

"Hi," Ron replied, his eyes wide, his hand – holding a slice of our pizza – frozen in mid-air.

"Hello," I said slowly, finishing up the buttons on George's shirt.

"…I thought you weren't at home," Ron explained. Thank Merlin we remembered to silence the room this time.

"You wouldn't be too keen on us wiping your memory, would you?" George asked stiffly.

I took a step forward, my bare legs already getting goose bumps from the chilly atmosphere.

"Surprise?" I shrugged, unsure of what else to say.

"Surprise," Ron agreed, nodding slowly, his hand still unmoving.

"Do you maybe want to put something on, love?" George mumbled to me.

"He's seen me in far less than this," I retorted with a shiver, "but I am rather cold. Back in two shakes of a lamb's tail." I then ran to the bedroom, threw on some pajama bottoms, then burst right back into the room, the scene before me completely unchanged.

"So…" I began, stepping in front of George and sitting opposite Ron, "how ya doing?"

"I'm bloody traumatized, but other than that, I guess I'm okay," Ron replied.

George sat down next to me, grabbing my hand. "Well, there it is," he commented.

"So you were…when I was….?" Ron tried to figure out. "Oh, bloody hell! That time, after Christmas, when I thought it was….it was?" he wondered, pointing at me, his face becoming horrified upon realization.

"The Lungs, Ron. Ron, the Lungs," George introduced, gesturing back and forth between me and Ron as I rubbed my forehead.

"I know who she is," he confirmed, nodding. "Only went to school with her for five years, known her for almost ten…and now you're…."

"Can't we all be adults about this?" I interrupted. "You're 19, Ron. George and I are both 21. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out any of this."

"Rockets?" Ron muttered in confusion, finally setting down the pizza.

"You don't have to be a genius to figure it out, Ron," I sighed. "George and I have been seeing each other for several months. We've been keeping it quiet to avoid moments like this."

"That's why you have an answering machine and new furniture," Ron whispered. "And that's why she's over here all the time…."

"Give the man a galleon!" George exclaimed, obviously frustrated. "And while we're at it, who told you to devour half our dinner?" he wondered, waving a hand towards the half-eaten pizza.

"I got into a fight with Mum. She's starting to get very antsy about me moving out. With Ginny still at Hogwarts, I'm the only person there, and it's a lot," he sighed. "This was the only place I knew to go. Bill and Fleur are on holiday, Charlie's…somewhere, and you'd have to pay me about a million galleons to go stay with Percy."

"But did you really have to eat all our pizza?" I sighed.

Ron shrugged. "It was there, and I was hungry. This isn't one of your really elaborate pranks this time, is it, George?"

"No," he answered in a moment of rare seriousness. "I love her, and she loves me. We're very happy together."

"Does Mum know?"

"No," George and I both echoed.

"And we want to keep it that way for now," George added.

"Are you ever going to tell her?"

"We just thought we'd live in sin forever in the hopes that no one would ever notice," I replied cheekily. "But we really do love each other," I confirmed, looking at Ron seriously now, internally thrilled to be saying all of this for the first time out loud to anyone besides George. "George is absolutely everything to me. I would do anything for him and I know he would do the same for me."

George looked over at me and smiled slightly, squeezing my hand.

"Well, what do you think Ronnie?" he asked.

"You're really, properly serious," Ron stated. "It all makes sense now. You look at him the same way I look at 'Mione," he said to me quietly.

"I know," I smiled.

"It's alright," Ron agreed. "It's…wicked."

"That's one way to describe it," George whispered, nudging me with his elbow.

"Is that all you can think about?"

He looked over at me, pretending to think. "Yes."

"Fair enough. Me, too," I laughed, nudging him right back.

"I'm still here," Ron reminded us. "Haven't you done enough damage to me tonight?"

"Sorry!" we both exclaimed.

"We wouldn't want to hurt ickle Ronniekin's delicate sensibilities," George teased. "And go ahead and finish the pizza. There's not much left….I guess me and Car can survive on cereal."

"Speak for yourself," I replied. "I can whip something up. You staying the night, Ronnie?"

Ron gestured to the duffel bag by the door, his mouth too full of pizza to talk.

"Flip a coin?" I whispered to George.

"Heads," he replied.

I took a galleon from my bag and flipped it into the air and once more on my hand for good measure.

When I saw it had indeed landed on heads, I groaned. "Dammit."

"Out of sheer pity for you, I'll make us some dinner," George promised as I went to go clean up our spare room. It would be easy enough to do with my wand, but it was just the matter of actually getting it all done by a reasonable hour.

After spending forty-five minutes clearing clutter including failed experiments from the shop, Quidditch memorabilia, and my old bassoon from my primary school days, George knocked on the door, right as I was backing against the closet, trying to keep everything from falling out.

"I would help you but that would require effort," he mused, setting down two platefuls of bangers and mash on the bedside table before coming over and assisting me anyway.

"Where's the bloody Room of Requirement when you need it?" I wondered, out of breath.

"This _is_ our Room of Requirement," he replied, hitting the closet with his shoulder. We both sighed in relief when we heard the door finally click.

"Now just dusting and changing the sheets," I mumbled, wiping a bit of sweat from my brow. "I don't know if your brother's worth all this trouble."

"Not at all," we both said simultaneously, shaking our heads and laughing.

"What's he doing, anyway?"

"Muggle television. The one with the friends…in America…?" he guessed, shrugging. "The one I can actually stand?"

"_Friends_," I nodded, bringing the feather duster into the room with my wand and setting it to work on the nearby bookshelf while I sat down and grabbed a plate, passing it to George.

We ate together in comfortable silence, both noticing the large gap in the wall now that the portrait was gone.

"Hey, you," I said, nudging him after a while, "wanna play a prank on Ron?"

He seemed hesitant for a moment, but after looking up and seeing where the portrait had been, he smiled a little, asking, "What did you have in mind, Shannon?"

I whispered my idea in his ear, watching him cover his mouth to silence his laughter.

"You're evil," he said, almost like a compliment.

"Too far you think?"

"Not far enough," he disagreed, chuckling.

As the clock neared eleven, we all said goodnight to one another as George and I settled into our bedroom.

"Any second now," he laughed, tapping his watch with a bony finger.

Sure enough, we heard a bloodcurdling scream come from the spare room a few seconds later.

"Ron, what's going on?" I asked, bursting into the room, wand at the ready.

"S….Sp…." was all Ron could get out as George and I giggled.

"Oh, you've noticed our friend!" George said, looking up at the ceiling, where, over the bed, a live-action poster of a tarantula hung, its pincers seeming to get closer and closer with every second.

"This is not funny!" Ron exclaimed. "Get rid of it!"

"Oh, fine, you pansy," George mumbled, reaching up and removing the poster. "It's a prototype I was working on for the shop."

"Keep it far, far away from me," Ron commanded as George rolled up the offensive material and threw it under the bed.

"All gone," George said. "Sweet dreams, Ronnie."

"Oh, sod off," Ron muttered as George and I began to laugh harder.

"Don't look underneath your pillow," I casually mentioned as we waltzed out of the room.

"Why?" Ron wondered, genuinely curious.

"You don't want to know," I said coyly, shutting the door behind us.

"Oh, bloody hell!" I heard a few moments later and George and I practically collapsed in the hallway from all the laughter. We saw the door open as Ron tossed a small stuffed spider into the hallway.

"Worst hosts ever," he complained. "Even though the bangers and mash were really good and you have a nice television and your sheets smell like jasmine," he halfway complimented, slamming the door behind him.

"Aw, Ronnie, if you get scared again, you can come sleep between me and George!" I jokingly offered, George and I both clutching at our sides, howling with laughter.

"Yeah, come on!" George encouraged, barely able to keep it together. "And if I grab your bum in the middle of the night, just pretend like it's normal."

We heard a displeased moan from Ron and exchanged glances, our work there clearly done.

"That was beautiful," George complimented, helping me up. "Is it strange that I'm a bit proud?"

"George," I deadpanned, "I was putting salt in my father's coffee before I could even walk. This isn't anything you haven't seen me do before."

"No, not that. I mean proud of you – of us. If that makes sense," he added as we began to get ready for bed. "We told Ron, that's a good first step, right?"

"Right," I agreed.

And I was being completely truthful. For the first time in months, I slept like a baby.

* * *

**Just a bit of a fun fact - the amortentia. Caroline smells roses because of her mother's rose garden that she used to help with, Earl Grey tea simply because it's her favorite, George's cologne is self explanatory, and their flat because it is a place where she's had wonderful memories, no matter who with. George smells the ocean because of all the summers he and his family spent at the beach, Caroline's shampoo is also self explanatory, smoke because of all the explosions/fireworks he and Fred spent hours creating together, and chocolate frogs, well, see last chapter. ;)**


	8. Chapter 8

"Oi, no more shots! I refuse!" I laughed heartily over the thumping bass surrounding me and my friends at the newest wizarding nightclub.

"Well, you don't become the youngest Healer-in-Charge in three centuries every day," my friend, Jeanette, willingly pointed out.

"Very true," I agreed, wagging a finger at her and gladly taking the shot anyway, immediately feeling a warm, tender feeling in my bones on this chilly October night.

"Miss Healer-in-Charge, what are you going to do now?" another friend, Audrey, asked me, holding up a pretend microphone to my lips.

I feigned thoughtfulness for a minute while my friends began to laugh almost maniacally. "I'll tell you what I'm going to do. I…am going to get us all completely smashed," I nodded, giggling.

"Tim is going to kill me," Jeanette complained, taking another sip of her drink. "I left him all alone with the baby tonight."

"He's a grown man," I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "I think he can handle it."

"The man doesn't even know how to change a diaper by himself," she retorted. "Three months this baby has been alive, and he still can't figure out one end from the other."

"He'll be alright," Audrey piped in, her native German accent virtually undetectable even with a few drinks under her belt.

"I'm not worried about him. I'm worried about poor little Lewis!" she exclaimed.

"Tell him his godmother will be over there tomorrow to undo any damage," I promised, smiling at the thought of visiting my little chubby-cheeked friend.

"Let's not traumatize the little tyke further, eh?" Jeanette teased as Audrey laughed some more.

"Ouch!" I exclaimed, heading back over to the bar with both women in tow. "I was going to buy you two another round, but now…."

"No, no, no, you're the one with the money now," Jeanette insisted jokingly.

"Like you have it so bad," I scoffed, waving down the bartender and looking down at my feet before straightening my skirt a bit. My feet were bare, my shoes probably somewhere on the dance floor.

"Another round please," I said, shoving a few galleons towards him.

"Mm, you won't need it. A gentleman sent this over for you," the bartender said, handing me a glass of wine.

"Me?" I asked, pointing to myself.

"You," the man confirmed. "From our most expensive bottle, too."

"I don't have time for this," I mumbled. "Can you tell whoever this is, that while I'm flattered, he should get a life?"

The man shrugged and gave us another round, asking before we left, "Can I drink it then?"

"Have at it, mate," I replied as we headed to a table.

"Who do you think that was?" Audrey wondered.

"Some creep, I'm sure," I answered.

"It's not like he knew you had a boyfriend," Jeanette countered. "Besides, he could've been completely fit."

"Who are you, trying to have it off with strangers?" I laughed. "Is being married that dull?"

She shrugged a bit, sipping her drink as she half-smiled at both me and Audrey. Her husband, Tim, was a lovely (and somewhat dimwitted) man but he was also a Muggle who had absolutely no idea about the wizarding world. New laws had been made so wizards could reveal their blood status to their Muggle spouses, but Jeanette had been insistent that he could never know, and her marriage was sometimes a sore subject.

"Sorry," I mumbled immediately, patting her on the hand and giving a sympathetic smile.

"I'm fine," she insisted, downing the rest of her drink and leading us all to the dance floor.

Half an hour later, all was forgotten as the three of us stumbled off the dance floor, laughing madly.

"Drinks are on me this time," Audrey said, grabbing a few galleons from her purse.

As I stood near the bar, posing for a quick picture with Jeanette on her new Muggle camera, the bartender tapped me on the shoulder, handing me a glass of wine.

"Again?" I sighed. This was probably the fourth time in an hour. "Didn't he get the huge, fat 'No,' the first, second, and third times?"

The bartender shrugged and I rolled my eyes with a bit of a frustrated growl.

"Where is this bloke?" I questioned, looking around the crowded, dark club. "What does he look like?"

"I have no idea," the bartender answered. "Do you know how many people I've served tonight?"

I looked at him, my eyes wide. "Do you know how much I don't care?"

The man sighed, obviously just as frustrated as I. "I think he was wearing a suit. Orange shirt maybe? Somewhere over there," he said, gesturing to a corner of the smoky room.

"I'll be back," I assured my friends, pushing my way to the other side of the club, searching for this mystery admirer.

I saw a glimmer of orange under the cuff of a suit jacket and approached the man from behind as he talked to someone, angrily tapping on his shoulder and clearing my throat.

"How many times do I have to say 'No' and send back your bloody expensive wine? Who are you trying to impress here, mate?" I seethed in the darkness. "Listen carefully: I'm not interested. At all. So just stop, eh?"

Just then, as a flash of light passed over the table the man and his frozen talking partner were at, I noticed my shoes sitting in the chair opposite them.

"You bloody creep!" I exclaimed over the loud music. "Taking my shoes! Is that how you get your kicks? I hope you realize that I'm not afraid of spending the night in prison!"

I then heard huge guffaws from the man and his friend and I drew my fist back, preparing for a punch.

"She's exactly how I remember her," I heard a familiar voice say. "Cross and Scottish."

"Oh, you absolute bastard," I laughed, immediately jumping into George's lap despite the company. He'd been gone on business for the last three days, and I hadn't been expecting him back for another day or two at least.

"I got your owl and came home early to surprise you, and then Thaddeus led me here," he said, wrapping his arms around my waist and steadying me. "Not that it really surprises me, but congratulations."

I bit my lip before leaning in for a sloppy kiss, only stopping when our guest cleared his throat. I pulled away, blushing a bit and saw Ron waiting there patiently, more than likely having been dragged here rather than coming of his own free will.

"Just go ahead," he said, waving a dismissive hand. "I've pretty much seen it all at this point, haven't I?"

I looked at George and shrugged before continuing to kiss him, completely ignoring those around us.

A few minutes later, I heard what sounded like Jeanette's voice. "Is that her? What is she doing? Oh, Merlin!"

I soon felt a hand shaking me as I groaned, intent on not breaking the kiss.

"Caroline! What are you doing? Are you mad? Stop it! You love George!" Audrey practically screamed.

"Yes, yes, she does love George," George chuckled, pulling away and looking up at them.

"We can tell," Jeanette agreed, laughing a bit at my already disheveled hair and the way my skirt was somewhat hiked up.

"Oh, we're not doing anything any other couple isn't doing," I defended, gesturing to the dance floor.

"Talk to me in nine months, then," Jeanette retorted and I didn't need the lights on to see her biting brown eyes giving me a look.

"Yes, Mother," I replied sarcastically, and I could see her give me an affectionate look as the lights hit her face for a moment. "Oh, Jeanette, Audrey…Ron, George's brother. Ron…Jeanette, Audrey. Mingle or whatever," I said, suddenly becoming aware of my proximity to George again.

"Fancy a drink, Ron?" Jeanette asked Ron, who simply stuttered in response. He and Hermione had been broken up for a few months now and he had gone back to being completely hapless around the opposite sex.

"Don't worry, I'm married," Jeanette reassured him, flashing her left ring finger at him as he seemed to relax a bit. "Not that it's ever stopped me before," she deadpanned as we all struggled not to laugh.

"Be gentle with him," I giggled while Audrey led a mortified Ron to go get a drink.

"Have fun, you two," Jeanette said, looking us both up and down.

"Sorry," I mouthed at her. "I haven't seen him in forever!"

"Yeah, yeah," she laughed, heading to the dance floor.

"How did the business deal go?" I asked George before I forgot.

"We're going to Hogsmeade," George confirmed excitedly. "Old Zonko was more than happy to get it off his hands."

"I'm happy for you," I said, giving him another quick kiss, tasting a bit of firewhisky on his lips. "What with all this good news, we're definitely going to have to celebrate," I said suggestively, fiddling with the collar of his shirt.

"Let's get out of here," he suggested, and I mulled it over, looking at him intensely.

"No."

"If you want to go be with your mates some more, I can get out of your hair, really," he said quickly. "Just say the word."

"No, not that. It's just," I began, twisting a button on his shirt between my fingers as I tried my best to whisper in his ear, "who says we have to leave?"

I could see his eyes get wide in the bright red light that surrounded his face for a brief moment.

I hopped off his lap, taking his hand and leading him to the bathroom….

A while later, we passed by the bar again, seeing an uncomfortable Ron talking to Audrey while he sipped on a beer. The bartender saw me and George walk by, holding hands, and did a double take, mumbling, "Someone just can't make up their mind."

"After you," George said, holding the door open for me as we stepped into the freezing night.

"It's only bloody October!" I complained, and George immediately removed his coat and placed it over my shoulders.

"Thanks," I mumbled, smiling a bit as George rested his hand on the small of my back.

We then leisurely strolled home, getting in just after one in the morning. When I turned on the almost fluorescent lights to our bedroom, I saw George's face and visibly recoiled. His eyes were tired-looking, with anxious black circles underneath them.

"Georgie," I said, shrugging out of his coat and going to his side. "Have you not slept at all since you've been gone?"

"A bit, here and there. It's been busy," he answered quietly. "And you know I have trouble sleeping when you're not next to me," he explained, smiling weakly.

"Well you're home now," I reassured as I got undressed, tossing my clothes into the floor and putting on an oversized t-shirt.

"When I stopped by the Burrow last night, Mum got onto me for not visiting enough," he informed me. "Then, during dinner, she accidentally called me Fred…it took a while to get her to stop crying…."

I knew there wasn't much to say to this, so I remained silent, looking at him sympathetically and holding him in my arms for a few moments.

"I almost told them about us, but I decided not to after the incident at dinner," he said after a long pause as he led me to our bed, sitting down. "It just didn't feel right without you and the rest of the family there besides me and Ron and our parents. Bill and Fleur are in Saudi Arabia now, Charlie's still in Romania, Percy's doing wedding planning, and then Ginny's always busy with Quidditch…."

"Percy's wedding is on Christmas Eve," I reminded him, stroking his hair gently. "They'll all come for that, and we'll be there, too."

"Christmas," he nodded. "I just hate keeping it from them. It's like we have an entire double life."

"You're completely knackered, love," I said, ignoring his words and simply looking at his bloodshot eyes, more concerned about the latter. "And we'll work it out eventually, I promise."

"I know," he yawned.

"You didn't have to visit me at that club tonight," I scolded, fussing about him and trying to get him into our bed.

"I wanted to," he replied. "You always make things better." He then settled into our bed quite willingly, curling the sheets around himself as he breathed in, inhaling all the familiar scents of our flat. "Besides, that skirt…if we didn't know one another and I was a different kind of bloke…."

"Oh, go to sleep," I sighed with a laugh as I settled in next to him. "_That_ will make everything better."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," he agreed. "Love you."

"Love you." And out went the light.


	9. Chapter 9 Part 1

**_All flashback/dream sequences are in italics. (And the dreams are all based on very real events, except for the very last little bit...)_**

* * *

"_Okay. So, we go this way…." Fred took a pencil and dragged it along the Marauder's Map, making a faint path for us to follow. "And it takes us right underneath the prefect's bathroom. From there, Caroline," he said, pointing at me, "you're going to have to crawl through the tunnel by yourself and leave the bomb."_

"_Why me?" I asked, my brow crinkled._

"_You're small enough for it. Take it as a compliment," Fred replied, smirking at me._

"_You two are pretty thin," I argued, reaching over next to me and holding up George's slender wrist._

"_I love it when you man-handle me," George proceeded to whisper in my ear loudly, making Fred laugh._

"_You wish," I retorted, promptly dropping his wrist back onto the seat._

"_We did gain some muscle this summer," Fred defended as I looked at him, exasperated and unbelieving. "And we grew a few inches. Plus, we just really don't want to do it," he smiled, giving me a mischievous look._

"_What's in it for me?" I questioned, looking out the window at the rolling countryside, trying to seem uninterested._

"_Our undying gratitude," George said._

"_Along with our love and friendship," Fred added._

"_Forever," George finished._

"_Not enough," I said with a laugh. "Not nearly enough."_

"_Awww, is that what this is about?" Fred asked. "Caroline, we've been over this. You can snog us anytime you want."_

"_Surprisingly, I'm good, thanks," I nodded. "Now," I began, getting out my wand and giving the Marauder's Map a tap, "mischief managed. I believe it's time for a nap."_

_I stood up, grabbing my pillow and blanket from the top of the overhead compartment. _

"_And while I'm asleep, you two can think of how you'll make it up to me," I grinned, settling in-between George and the window, falling asleep to the churning sound of the train engine, busy thinking about all the food at the sorting ceremony…._

"_Wake up," I heard someone say a while later. _

"_What, are we there?" I sighed, stretching and yawning._

"_Something's going on. The train's stopped," George whispered, and I noticed my head had been resting on his shoulder. _

_I immediately popped up into the darkness as I saw several black, hooded figures passing the train._

"_Get behind us," Fred commanded, standing up and going to the window as his brother did the same._

"_No way," I mumbled, pushing past the reluctant and silent twins, my wand at the ready. Both of them tried to get back in front of me, their hands on my shoulders, preventing me from moving any closer if I dared. Right then, one of the hooded figures stopped and looked at us through the window, and I felt as if I would never be happy again, like the very essence of my being was gone. Images flashed through my head – sobbing at my grandfather's funeral when I was ten, telling my childhood best friend that I was a witch upon receiving my Hogwarts letter, and her mother refusing to let me see her ever again, calling my parents nutters and freaks…then my mother's breast cancer diagnosis my second year, and the time Adrian Pucey called me a mudblood during a Quidditch match and caused me to lose the quaffle…._

_And then, as suddenly as it had arrived, the hooded figure was gone and I could breathe again, remembering that my mother had gone into remission third year and my best friend still called and Gryffindor had won the match anyway. I sighed in relief as the lights came on once more and the train started moving again. As I looked up, I noticed I was clinging on to Fred's shirt and that he was doing much of the same to me. We both cleared our throats, exchanged a half-hearted smile, and just sat back down in our seats as if nothing had even happened…._

"_Oi, are you coming?" Fred whispered into the darkness._

"_Yeah, yeah," I said, dragging a bag through his Aunt Muriel's darkened living room. We'd been staying there for months, hiding from the Death Eaters, and in my case, to keep my Muggle parents out of the fray._

"_Do you have the note?"_

"_Yes," I answered. I held the letter up, my wand in the other hand. "_Lumos_," I commanded. _

"_Everyone,_

_We are very sorry to just leave you here like this, but we cannot wait. We are going to go to a Muggle vicar and get married as soon as possible. We believe we are doing what's best. We will try to be discreet and to not draw any attention to ourselves, from Death Eaters or otherwise. We will be back as soon as we can, but if we believe our return will put any of you in danger for any reason, we will just have to plan accordingly. If, for some reason, we do not make it back, know that we stick by our decision. This is something we both dearly want, and we believe it is worth whatever may happen. We are sorry that we have to do it this way. To our parents, we love you deeply, and thank you for all that you have done for us. That goes to the rest of the family, no matter if they're with us here or not, particularly George, Ginny, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Percy. _

_Love, _

_Caroline and Fred," I read aloud. "Good?"_

"_Good," he agreed. _

"_Do you think we're doing the right thing?" I asked, glancing up at him._

"_You said so yourself a million times in that note," he replied. _

"_I know, it's just not the way I thought this would happen. I always thought my parents would be there, you know, my mum crying in the front row, and my dad being a total sap as he gives me away…."_

"_Do you want this, really?" he asked me seriously._

"_Do you?"_

"_Yes! I've never been more serious in my life. We're probably gonna die in a few months anyway," he argued._

"_That's not funny!"_

"_I wasn't trying to be," he retorted. "And I really do want this. I want to have somewhat of a normal life for the time being."_

"_What are we supposed to do? Newlyweds in a house that barely has four rooms. Perfect way to start our married life, listening to Crookshanks and your Aunt Muriel both hacking up a hairball every morning, really sets the mood," I sighed, feeling more and more ambivalent. _

"_It's only a few months more. We can throw George out of that bedroom and just push the beds together," he shrugged._

"'_Oh, yes, Molly, I'll help you with dinner right after I get done shagging your son only ten meters away from where you're standing, and don't worry, if the Death Eaters just happen to come 'round, don't stop us,'" I mocked._

"_Do you want to do this or not?" _

"_I don't know," I said after a moment. "I really don't. You know I don't care about these things, but I at least want my family there, and I know you want George to be your best man, and we'd need witnesses, and rings, and at least a little bit of privacy when we came back….I still want to, but maybe if we had some more time to think things over and plan some more….It just doesn't feel right right now, if that makes sense."_

"_Yeah, I guess you do have a point. We probably could've planned this a bit better," he conceded. "I could already imagine my mum. 'You did what?'" he asked, perfectly imitating Molly's high-pitched squeak when she got angry._

"_Yeah, I can definitely see that," I said, nodding somewhat and trying to laugh a bit._

_He promptly ripped up our note, smiling at me. "I don't need a piece of paper telling me that I love you, anyway."_

"_Neither do I, so let's just forget it for now, then."_

"_And while we're out here, alone…." Fred mentioned. "I know it's not the same, but a quick snog wouldn't hurt."_

"_Definitely not," I agreed, leaning in closer…._

_I pulled us down together onto his bed, the taste of firewhisky and salty tears commingling in our mouths._

_Our lips never broke the kiss, not even as we fumbled with clothes, George's clumsy fingers trying to unhook my bra. He outlined the bottom of my breast with a finger, following the delicate white skin as it curved and concaved. I could barely think about what I was doing. All I could really notice were his gentle hands and rough mouth making me shiver and I really didn't even mind. _

"_Caroline," he breathed in-between a kiss, right as my hands journeyed to his lower half, grabbing his bum and giving it a slight squeeze. _

_I began to kiss his jawline, his neck and collarbone, our legs and feet starting to tangle together. _

_Soon he was doing the same to me, reaching down and slipping two fingers inside me as I gasped and began to writhe with pleasure, moving against his hand and pulling his head back up to my level so I could kiss him properly, moaning into his mouth and grabbing his hair._

_When he had finished, without even a pause to really catch my breath, I continued to kiss him, wrapping my legs around his waist, wanting to go even further, to feel him inside me,_

_He stopped for a moment, pulling away and looking directly at me. "Are you sure you want this?"_

_I gave a curt nod. "Yes." _

_And with that, his lips crashed into mine once more and he reached for something in his nightstand and pulled away for a second before he shifted a little, connecting with me effortlessly._

"_George," I moaned, my eyes closed as I held him against me, digging my nails into his back. "Oh, George." I felt his forehead press against mine, and I opened my eyes and saw, to my horror, a pair of red eyes looking into mine, as I heard a snake-like voice ask, "Are you sure you want this?" _

"George!" I awoke with a fright, right as my alarm clock went off at 7 A.M. sharp on the first day of December.

"Bad dream?" he yawned, sitting up next to me.

"You don't know the half of it," I mumbled. "It was alright, I suppose, until the end, then it just got…."

"Want to talk about it?"

"There are _no_ words," I said, rubbing my sore back and stretching my neck to get the kinks out. "Trust me." I looked over and saw Thaddeus perched atop the bedside table for probably the twentieth morning in a row.

"And just when did you get here?" I asked my pet. "This may surprise you, but I am perfectly capable of going to sleep without your help."

Thaddeus simply stared at me, as if it were obvious.

"I know I haven't been feeling well," I conceded. "Thank you for taking care of me." I reached over and gently scratched the little tuff of fur on top of his head, secretly knowing it was his favorite spot.

"Get outta here and get some breakfast, you," I instructed, getting up and opening a window while my bird happily exited the room.

"You know what might make you feel better?" George asked as I flopped down on the bed once more. "If, I don't know, you maybe took a day off once in a while or at least went to the doctor? You're running yourself ragged."

He did have a point. In the almost two months since I'd become Healer-in-Charge for the entire fourth floor of St. Mungo's, I had worked almost non-stop, trying to implement new changes, better visiting hours, stricter security, more activities for the patients in the mental ward….

I didn't mind, really. That was I had become a Healer in the first place. I wanted to help people. Lately, though, I was exhausted from the demands of my new job, often falling asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow and waking up just as tired, my back and head aching.

"You'll be happy to know I'm going to the general health clinic, five o'clock today," I informed him, internally groaning. I hadn't been sick or even seen a doctor in ten years, and I didn't exactly want to start.

"And don't you dare say 'I told you so,'" I threatened George, who was looking at me smugly, knowing he had been right.

"But I'm gonna think it all day," he teased.

I stuck a solitary middle finger up in the air. "Right here, Weasley."

"If you want to, you know, we can. Really quickly," he suggested pseudo-seriously.

"There's another option besides 'really quickly'? Do tell me more," I joked, propping my chin up on a fist and looking at him curiously.

"Sod off," he laughed, gently smacking me in the face with a pillow.

After we were both dressed in our usual garb, he handed me my lunch sack as I straightened his tie a bit.

"Have a good day. Save a life," he said, kissing me on the cheek.

"Try not to end one," I replied, and I was off.

As soon as I walked in, I shed my new royal blue Healer's robe, designed to differentiate myself from the other Healers on the same floor. I couldn't have cared less about the difference, to be perfectly honest. I was just happy to get out of that despicable lime green color I'd worn for nearly three years.

Still, my robe, no matter the color, was uncomfortably hot as of late, so I hung it up in the break room, leaving me in just one of my many Weasley jumpers and a pair of slacks, which was more how I preferred it, anyway.

After handling a few emergencies and removing a wand from a very delicate place, I joined Jeanette and Audrey in the break room for lunch, already exhausted but still in lively spirits.

"You're looking a bit peaky," Audrey commented to me. "Not sleeping or something?"

"Don't even talk to me about not sleeping," Jeanette cut in. "Lewis is teething. I'm never going to sleep again."

"Me and George can take him one night," I offered, opening up my lunch sack.

"We like you too much to put you through that," she replied.

"I'm touched," I said sarcastically, clutching a hand to my chest. "But one night can't hurt. Besides, a change of scenery might help, and you know he loves George."

"That's because they can relate," Jeanette reasoned, her mouth already full of food. "They both love cartoons and breasts."

I immediately doubled over in laughter, trying not to choke on a piece of apple.

"Oh, please, I wish I had someone like George," Audrey scoffed. "Good job, funny, handsome, intelligent…."

"And also very unavailable," I interrupted.

"I know!" she laughed, playfully hitting my arm. "And I was going somewhere with that. I was going to ask, you know, does he have any brothers?"

"Well, you met Ron," I shrugged.

"Please, I have socks older than Ron," Jeanette said. "Let's not get Audrey thrown into Azkaban, eh?"

"He's 19," I defended. "But he has Hermione, sort of…and Bill's married, Percy's getting married, and Charlie doesn't date much…but you know," I continued, "they do have a few cousins and loads of friends…and Percy's wedding is on Christmas Eve. I'm allowed a plus one. Interested?"

"Alright, then," Audrey agreed. "But isn't George your plus one?"

Jeanette opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, a nurse ran into the room.

"You're going to want to see this, Healer Shannon," she panted.

I sighed, setting down my barely eaten sandwich and going into the hallway where I saw a very panicked Narcissa Malfoy.


	10. Chapter 9 Part 2

**This will probably be the last chapter for a while as I start school back soon but I'll try to update as often as I can!**

* * *

"Get me the best Healer you have," she was saying to another nurse. "Money is no object."

"And here she is," the obviously frustrated nurse said as I approached Mrs. Malfoy.

Mrs. Malfoy gave me an appraising sort of look, staring at my old maroon jumper with a yellow 'C' adorning the front and my haphazardly braided light strawberry blonde curls pulled over to one side of my face.

"Healer Shannon," I introduced, extending a hand. "I'm the Healer-in-Charge for this floor. What can I do for you?"

She hesitantly took my hand and shook it. "My son, Draco….they said they were preparing him for surgery?"

I looked at the nurse. "And no one told me this?"

"You were eating lunch…."

"Get out of my way," I said, pushing past her and rushing to the operating room, where I saw an unconscious and bloody Draco Malfoy laying on a table, surrounded by nurses and a few trainee Healers.

"Next time someone doesn't immediately tell me about a surgery, you'll all be out of a job! Got it?" I hissed, making my way to the table and assessing his injuries.

"I tried to tell them," Ted said, obviously telling a half-truth. "I knew we couldn't do it without you."

"You're bloody right you couldn't have! You could've killed him!" I scolded. "What are you all standing here for? Get to work!" I commanded as a nurse put my robe around my shoulders and I began sterilizing my hands and wand.

A while later, I stepped out of the operating room, my robe completely bloodied. A lot of Draco's wounds were from evil curses, and I'd had to resort to a few Muggle methods I'd picked up, stitching all his wounds by hand and even reattaching a bit of his thumb without my wand. Whoever had harmed Draco had used some of the darkest, most despicable magic I had ever seen.

"He lost a lot of blood, but he'll be alright," I told Mrs. Malfoy after removing my robe, figuring the actual sight of her son's blood might give her an unnecessary scare.

"Can I see him?"

"No ma'am. He's still sleeping, and he probably will be for quite a while. I gave him the Draught of Living Death. His wounds will heal better if he rests. Most of his wounds were caused by very dark magic, and I had to use some, er, unconventional methods to patch him up, but he's essentially good as new, and he should have no long-term damage. Do you have any idea who would want to hurt your son?"

"I thought he fell off his broom into some trees!" Mrs. Malfoy reasoned. "That's what he told me when he came stumbling into our house, a bloody mess."

"Well, his wounds say otherwise," I said gently. "I have to report this to the Ministry of Magic."

"Alright," she agreed. "But I have no idea who would want to hurt him. I really don't."

I would normally question her words, but the confused, tormented look on her face and her actions during the Battle of Hogwarts convinced me that she was really telling the truth.

"We'll get to the bottom of things when he wakes up," I assured her. "You may want to get him a change of clothes, some toiletries, a toothbrush…I'm going to be keeping him several nights for observation."

She simply nodded, heading towards the exit to presumably gather her and Draco's things.

I then got back to work, racking my brain. Those rumors of Death Eaters were still rubbish. They had to be….Draco had probably just ended up on the wrong side of town, or maybe he'd been attacked in self-defense….

Either way, I immediately drafted a letter to Shacklebolt, detailing Draco's wounds and warning him of the seriously dark magic that had caused such grave injury. The aurors would find whoever this was and it would be taken care of by dinnertime, I reasoned. It was all probably just a fluke, anyway. Draco had never been the easiest lad to get along with….

After sending off my letter and doing a few more menial tasks, I finally clocked out, deciding to take a quick shower at work before I went to the doctor.

I tried to put the afternoon's events out of my mind as the almost scalding hot water ran over me, attempting to calm my aching muscles.

Fifteen minutes later, I was reasonably calmer, getting dressed in the spare clothes I always kept in my office. I put my damp hair up on top of my head, examining my appearance as I put my watch back on and delicately placed a pair of stunning diamond earrings – a gift from my parents – on my ears.

At a quarter till five, I apparated into the wizarding general health clinic to find George there, already waiting on me.

"Go home," I told him after getting checked in.

"I want to see what's wrong," he replied, moving his coat out of the seat next to him and inviting me to sit down.

I gave him a frustrated look, sitting down next to him somewhat reluctantly.

He put an around me, pulling me in closer to him. "Looks like you did save a life," he commented, noticing my change of outfit. "Whose blood stains are we going to spend a month washing out now?"

"You know I can't break Healer/patient confidentiality except for in extreme cases," I reminded him. "And I don't think your curiosity qualifies as 'extreme.'"

"You never let me have any fun," he complained, taking a second to pinch my nose, fully aware of how much I loved that simple action.

"Hey, Georgie," I began, laying my head on his shoulder, "do you know what you and Lewis have in common?"

Before he could even answer, a nurse came out, holding a chart in her hand. "Caroline?"

I got up slowly, George in tow.

"Is he family?" the nurse asked.

"I sure hope not," I answered, laughing and exchanging glances with George.

The nurse remained unamused, however, until I finally said, "He's my partner."

"Is that what they're calling it these days?" George whispered to me as the nurse led us down a hall. "I prefer the term 'love slave' myself."

"Shut up," I snickered, thankful that George had come along after all. I wasn't expecting the news to be bad _per se_, but as a Healer, I knew firsthand how wrong things could go.

After answering all the usual questions and being weighed and measured and poked and prodded, the nurse left and I grabbed George's hand, squeezing it.

"Can we get Chinese after this?" I wondered aloud, looking over at him.

"It's already on the table, waiting to be warmed up," he answered. "Face it, Shannon, I know you better than you know yourself."

"Okay…what do I want after that then?" I quizzed.

"You're going to get in your fluffiest pajamas and use me as your own personal pillow," he continued, "and then you'll probably fall asleep on me while we're watching old Muggle TV shows."

"You make us sound like an old married couple," I complained.

"I didn't say I minded any of that," he smiled, getting up and approaching me as I sat on the examining table. "And trust me, things haven't even begun to cool down for me," he purred in my ear, his strong arms enveloping me. "Unless they have they for you?"

I quickly shook my head back and forth, entranced by the bright brown eyes I loved so much.

Just then, we heard the door crack open and George swiftly got back in his seat, clearing his throat and giving me a wink before the doctor entered and I braced myself for whatever bad news I would hear. I went over my family medical history again and again in my head, trying to remember…high blood pressure and heart problems on Dad's side, anemia on my Mum's side….

"Miss Shannon?" I heard the healer ask, and I snapped my head up to see a kindly older gentleman looking at me. He had sad yet striking blue eyes that looked almost empty.

I looked at his name tag, finally making the connection. Healer Brown. He was Lavender Brown's father. We'd never met before but I knew of him and it felt like he knew me, the one to pronounce his only child dead.

"I was just telling your partner that your bloodwork was completely normal and you are perfectly healthy. But there is one curious thing…" he began, looking at his charts. "You have very high levels of the hormone progesterone."

My eyes grew wide. "Do you mean….?"

"Yes," Healer Brown confirmed.

I put a hand up to my mouth, smiling a bit but very much in shock.

"What?" George asked, feeling left out.

"Miss Shannon, Mr. Weasley, congratulations. You are indeed expecting, about ten weeks along. The tiredness you're feeling is completely normal. Just eat right, rest, and get a bit of exercise, and it'll pass. I'll leave you two alone now," he said, noticing George's dazed expression and deftly stepping out of the room.

George immediately jumped out of his chair, walking over to me and staring a bit, an exuberant grin slowly forming on his face.

"I'm gonna be a dad?"

"Yeah, you're gonna be a dad," I nodded as he hugged me tightly, holding me against him.

"Merlin," he said, breathless. "I know we've talked about it, but having it actually happen…I mean, it's better than I thought. Not that I thought it would be bad…it's just…this is actually happening," he stammered. "We need to find a midwife and I'm gonna need some paternity leave and I'm gonna have to actually learn how to put together a crib and change a diaper, not to mention all the dad jokes…."

"Calm down," I laughed, pulling him in and giving him a deep kiss. "We still have quite a long time until the baby comes. You heard the Healer."

"I'm not stupid! Ten weeks isn't very long at all!" he countered, looking at me seriously before cracking up with laughter.

"I'm going to humor you and pretend like that was actually funny," I replied, taking his hand and leading him out of the room towards the exit.

"I sure hope this child gets my sweet temperament," he retorted with a smile.

"Me too," I replied, leaning up and kissing him on the cheek.

"We've got to tell your parents now," I reminded him. "A secret relationship _and_ a secret baby…."

"Right after the wedding," he agreed. "We'd never hear the end of it if we stole the spotlight from Percy and Penelope. Course we may never hear the end of this, either."

"But it's completely worth it. I'd pay to see McGonagall's face when she sees our kid in the Great Hall for the first time," I laughed.

"I don't want to _kill_ the woman," he said as we exited the building, intent on just walking the few kilometers home.

"Speaking of murder," I began, laughing nervously, "hypothetically, if Molly takes all of this news badly, she can't really harm me now."

"She can still harm me," he mumbled. "You know how she feels about these things, living together, getting pregnant before you're married…."

"What is this, the Stone Age?" I cut in. "What happens in our home is our business, and I'm not going to be one of those people who gets married just because they're knocked –"

"You were saying?" George asked, bending down and getting on one knee in the middle of the street as I covered my mouth, smiling in spite of myself.

"Caroline Shannon, I'd be the happiest man alive if," he started, looking at me very seriously, "you would please help me tie my shoe?" With that, he gestured down to his feet and looked at me expectantly.

"You bloody git!" I exclaimed, smacking him lightly on the back of the head as he bent over, indeed tying his shoe.

"I was saying," I continued as we began walking once more, "that if – that's a very big 'if' now, by the way – we do get married, I don't want it to be because of some stupid, outdated societal rule that your mother thinks we should follow. I want to get married for love. And when I find it, I'll be sure to let you know," I kidded, elbowing him as we walked along.

"Whatever. You were totally gonna say 'yes,'" he teased.

"I'm pregnant. I don't know the consequences of my actions. I'm a big hormonal mess, really," I shrugged. "I would've said 'yes' to anyone."

"You know you love me," he retorted, leading me through the already-closed shop and up to our flat.

"Yeah, I do," I agreed, stopping him and kissing him on the lips once more. "And the little nipper does, too," I added as he pulled away, patting my stomach a bit.

"It better," he replied. "One day that child will know the terrible, terrible things I had to do and all the sacrifices I had to make to give it life, namely shagging you in a men's bathroom stall at some seedy nightclub and then accidentally falling into the toilet."

I began to laugh almost uncontrollably at the memory, noting, "Thanks for taking one for the team, Georgie."

"It was a very low point in my life," he laughed, finally unlocking our flat and stepping inside, holding the door open for me. "It's tough sleeping with a beautiful, successful woman and having to watch her carry my child for nine months. Exhausting, even. I need a beer," he said, faking a dramatic sigh. "You coming?"

"Yeah," I answered after a moment, having been distracted by a dark shadow in the corner of my eye, completely missing everything he had just said.

"What were you looking at?" he wondered, shutting the door behind us.

"Nothing," I said absentmindedly. "It was probably nothing."

"Why don't you sit down and I'll take care of dinner, yeah?" he suggested and I nodded in reply, my brows crinkled in concentration.

While he went to the kitchen to heat up our dinner, I walked back over to the door, peeping outside only to see nothing but the usual wooden staircase and tiny wallpapered hallway exactly as they had been moments before, not a soul in sight.

"Oi, do you want an egg roll?" George called from the kitchen.

"Yes, please," I replied, shutting the door and locking it, then checking it twice more before I was satisfied.

I heard the phone ring, knowing it was my parents but letting George pick it up while I sat on the couch, thinking about work, wondering if Shacklebolt had indeed gotten my letter and taken care of the problem….

"Love, which button do I press again?" George asked, stepping into the room with the ringing pphone in his hand.

"Green," I reminded him, giving him a bit of a smile and trying to forget this strange feeling that had just come over me.

I heard a button press and then heard George greet, "Bob! Are we still on for…golf...Sunday?"

"Bless him," I thought, admiring George's efforts to get to know my father.

"How's Caroline? Still as disagreeable as ever," George said, giving me a mocking smile.

"Hi, Daddy," I called loudly enough so my father could hear on the other line.

"Hi, pumpkin!" I heard my father greet before proceeding to engage George in another long talk about Muggle politics.

"Tony Blair?" George mouthed at me as my father rattled on.

"Muggle Prime Minister," I answered, giving him a thumbs up as I went to go finish heating up our dinner. George followed me, propping the phone between his shoulder and his ear before wrapping his arms around me from behind, holding me while he listened intently to my father, occasionally adding in an "Mhm," or an "Ah," which probably thrilled my father to no end just because someone was finally listening to his babbling.

Soon, George's hands were on top of mine, our fingers laced together as I flicked my wand at various little containers of food, not saying a word, even when he bent down a bit and put my father on speakerphone, kissing my neck very quietly and almost chastely, still throwing in an "Uh-huh," every once in a while. He eventually let go of my hands, his fingers coming up and brushing my hair to one side as he gently removed my earrings, the tips of his thumbs grazing my earlobes before his hands dropped down to my shoulders, kneading into them as he began to nibble my ear and softly whisper to me, and I didn't think a single thought for the rest of the night.


End file.
